A touch of love Page 4

  "Why do I get the feeling this is only the second time you've ridden in a truck?" Jesse asked as he turned up the volume on the radio. It was tuned to KLAC, and the Judds' song playing was one of his favorites.

  "I must have ridden in a truck more than twice," Aubrey argued, although she couldn't recall when. Because Country/Western music was too melancholy for her taste, she wished Jesse had the sense to turn it off rather than up. Thinking suffering through such dismal accompaniment was the price she would have to pay for traveling with a cowboy, she held her tongue, but it was a real challenge to do so. Her only consolation was that he wasn't talking on his CB radio.

  "Twice," Jesse mused aloud. "I think knowing me is going to provide a real education for you."

  "In what way?" Aubrey scoffed.

  "We'll just have to wait and see," Jesse replied. She seemed too restless to enjoy anymore teasing so he let the matter drop. He hoped she wasn't worried that visiting the house would make her sick again.

  Jesse had been in the Los Angeles area often enough to drive the freeways with confidence. He took 134 west

  to the 405, then followed it up to Northridge. There was the usual amount of Sunday traffic, several places where their progress slowed to a crawl, but he was grateful he didn't have to fight the traffic on a daily basis and didn't swear about it Aubrey seemed uncomfortable the whole drive, and while he didn't want her nerves to get the better Of her, he failed to think of a way to reassure her, so he just hummed along with the radio rather than try. When finally she spoke, he jumped at the sound of her voice.

  "You said Harlan Caine was a developer. What sort of projects does he undertake—hotels, office buildings, subdivisions?" Appearing interested in his reply, Aubrey leaned over to turn down the radio.

  4 'No, he builds shopping malls, or at least he makes people think that he does in order to get them to invest in his company. I'm not sure he ever actually completed one, though. Why do you ask?"

  "A construction site would make an excellent place to dispose of bodies."

  'That it would," Jesse agreed. "But I don't think Caine had any projects under construction at the time Pete and his family disappeared. I guess that's what their argument was about. Pete had invested in a project that didn't look like it was ever going to get off the drawing board. He'd mentioned to a friend that he was going to hire an attorney, maybe start a class action suit against Caine. He didn't get the chance."

  "The threat of a lawsuit might provide Caine with a motive for doing away with Pete, but to slaughter his whole family, that's the act of a lunatic."

  "That's what my aunt and I think, but until we find a way to prove it, it's only opinion."

  Jesse found his cousin's home easily and pulled up at the curb. Located in an attractive subdivison, the house was hidden behind a six-foot wall. Only the tile roof of the

  one-story structure was visible from the street, but a crape myrtle tree with bright fuschia blossoms growing beside the gate made the entranceway inviting.

  "Some of the homes in the area suffered damage from the earthquake in 1994, but Pete's didn't. Doesn't look like a murder scene, does it?"

  Aubrey shook her head, then grew apprehensive and took a deep breath. "Not yet. But if it is, I can't help but think there would have been enough blood splattered around for the police to be certain there had been a killing."

  Jesse got out and walked around to open her door. He took her hand to help her step down to the sidewalk, then didn't release it. "That's a good point. Maybe I'm way off base thinking they died here.

  "The next door neighbors have a teenage son who looks after the yard. I'll have to tell them we're here so they won't worry someone's broken into the place. Come on, let's see if they're home."

  Aubrey was surprised when Jesse continued to hold her hand. His grasp was firm, but it wasn't an unpleasant sensation. Rather than pull away, she tried simply to appear indifferent to his touch as they walked up to the neighbors' door.

  Roberta Smaus remembered Jesse and greeted him warmly, but the instant she glanced toward Aubrey, she gasped in astonishment. "Aren't you Aubrey Glenn? I loved your book! Absolutely loved it, not that I've had the time to try much creative imagery myself, but your book was wonderful. Would it be an imposition to ask you to sign it for me?"

  Aubrey noted Jesse's impatient frown, but agreed. "Of course not. I'll be happy to do it."

  When Roberta hurried away to find her copy of The Mind's Eye, Aubrey raised up on her tiptoes to whisper in

  Jesse's ear. "I'm sorry, but this will only take a few seconds and it's never wise to disappoint a fan."

  There had been a time when people had clamored for his autograph, so Jesse knew exacdy what she meant and didn't argue. He knew from watching others just how quickly fans could turn on a celebrity who didn't respect diem. Even without provocation, fans tended to be fickle, and he didn't want to see Aubrey lose any of hers.

  * These people have been real nice about looking after Pete's house. Take your time."

  Jesse dropped Aubrey's hand when Roberta returned with a pen. She invited Aubrey to come inside where she could sit down to write and he waited outside on the porch trying not to feel left out. He wasn't used to being seen with a woman who got more attention than he did. Of course, Aubrey wasn't anything like the women he usually dated. She was a far more complex individual than any of his girlfriends had ever been. She wasn't really a date, either, he reminded himself. She just happened to have a talent he needed, that was all.

  "No, that's not all," he scolded himself, for despite that Aubrey shared litde information about herself, he was becoming increasingly intrigued by her. There was an air of mystery about her that he was eager to strip away, as eager as he was to strip away her clothes. As soon as she reappeared, he took her arm and hurried her next door.

  "I want to read your book. If you have any extra copies at home, I'd like to buy one. If not, I'll pick up one at a bookstore tomorrow."

  Aubrey stared at him for a long moment before responding. * 'I always have a few copies on hand for promotion and I'll be glad to give you one. I'll even autograph it for you."

  "Thanks." Jesse reached over the gate to pull open the latch. "Let's walk around to the back first. I think you'll

  like the garden. There's a fish pond and so many plants the place looks like a jungle. We can sit down there for a moment, and if you'd like to stay there while I go inside, I'll understand."

  The small backyard garden was every bit as lovely as Jesse had promised, and in the warm afternoon sunlight it proved to be wonderfully serene. Obviously laid out by a master landscape architect, the yard was terraced to give it added depth and planted with an abundance of delicate pink azaleas, lacy white forsythia, and fragrant gardenias.

  "This is a miniature paradise," Aubrey exclaimed. She strolled down the flagstone walk to the pond where goldfish darted among the shadows to catch the insects landing on the water's surface. "The Ferrells must have been a very nice family. Anyone who would take the trouble to create such a beautiful garden couldn't have been otherwise."

  The ends of Aubrey's loose curls were tossed lightly by the afternoon breeze, and as she turned toward Jesse he thought her as pretty as a model who had been purposely posed in the garden. She was wearing a pale aqua shirtwaist whose sheer fabric glistened with a silken sheen. Barelegged and wearing tan leather sandals, she looked as though she might have spent hours to achieve a look of careless elegance, but he knew for a fact it had taken her only a few minutes.

  No longer able to ignore the desire that had plagued him all afternoon, Jesse walked up to her, cupped her face gently in his hands, and gave her a long, slow kiss whose tenderness was carefully calculated to dissolve whatever lingering doubts she might have about him. "Most women think I'm very nice, too," he whispered when he finally drew away.

  Aubrey found it difficult to catch her breath, and while she hadn't thought it possible, Jesse had definitely man-

  aged to set h
er pulse racing, and then some. She felt betrayed by the warmth of her body's response though, rather than pleased by the awakening of long-dormant emotions. She hadn't asked for his affection, and she didn't want it. It terrified her, in fact, and her reaction was an extremely hostile one.

  4 'Is this why you brought me here? Did you merely want to take advantage of the romantic atmosphere rather than test whatever psychic ability I might possess?"

  Her response was so contrary to the one Jesse had anticipated, his temper also burst into flame. "Hell no! I just wanted to kiss you, so I did. What's the matter with that?"

  Aubrey scarcely knew where to begin. She was sorely tempted to shove him into the fish pond to cool him off, and she barely restrained the impulse. "I'm certain there are scores of women who think you're far more than nice, but what we have is a professional relationship, not a personal one. I should have made that abundantly clear before I went to dinner with you last night."

  What Jesse had envisioned was that she would pull him back into her arms for a near endless series of kisses. He had hoped for another chance to impress her at dinner, and after that, well, he couldn't recall the last time a woman had sent him home before dawn. He knew Aubrey was reserved, but he hadn't thought she would be all that different from other women once they had broken the ice. His kiss had been meant to do just that. Obviously it had failed to achieve the desired effect, and he was not a man who could accept failure gracefully.

  "If you're so damn anxious to see the house, I have the key. Let's go inside."

  Aubrey marched past him, then had to wait for Jesse to fish the key from his pocket when he reached the back door. She knew the whole trip had been pointless now that she was too angry to feel anything other than rage.

  She walked through the service porch and into the kitchen, but she didn't really see it before she went into the dining room. The table and chairs had been covered with sheets, as was the furniture in the livingroom. The house was still fully furnished, but her footsteps echoed as though it were vacant. When she came to the hallway leading to the bedrooms, she stopped and turned around.

  "I don't want to see anymore. I'll wait for you outside."

  "What's the matter? Are you afraid of what you might feel, or of what I might do?"

  "Either way I'd get sick to my stomach and I'd rather avoid that." Aubrey slipped by him and returned to the garden where she sat for more than thirty minutes before Jesse reappeared. His expression was as dark as her own, and she didn't speak as they left the yard. There was a red Toyota parked in front of the house now and two men, one carrying a camera, quickly got out and blocked their way to the pick-up truck.

  "Can you give me a quote for the morning paper, Ms. Glenn? Have the police asked for your help with the investigation of the Ferrells' disappearance?"

  Unaccustomed to being badgered by reporters, Aubrey shrank back as the cameraman's flash went off in her face, but Jesse simply brushed the men aside. He yanked open his Chevy's passenger door, helped Aubrey up into her seat, then slammed the door shut with a possessive flourish.

  "Ms. Glenn has no comment," he shouted as he lunged by them again before circling the truck to get in on the driver's side. He gunned the engine as he pulled away from the curb, but the photographer succeeded in getting several more shots.

  "Son of a bitch!" Jesse swore. "Your devoted fan, Mrs. Smaus, must have tipped them off that you were here."

  Aubrey thought that was too obvious a point to argue and kept still. That Jesse was too angry to turn on the radio

  was the only thing that kept her from shrieking hysterically the whole way home. The aggressive reporter had upset her badly, and coming right on the heels of her argument with Jesse, he had flayed her nerves raw. She wanted out. She would never be able to discover what had happened to the Ferrells, and even if she had that hope, there was no way she and Jesse could continue to work together.

  It took only one glance at the fierceness of his frown when he pulled up in front of her house to convince her that he agreed. When she climbed down from the truck unassisted, she didn't bother to say good-bye.

  worst in her, but she couldn't excuse her continual failure to control her temper around him.

  She had also had time to realize he could never have predicted how negative her reaction to his kiss would be. She was probably the only woman he had ever met who had nearly punched him in the nose rather than ripped off his shirt. She was responsible for her actions, she reminded herself; he wasn't. He shouldn't have kissed her, but her response had been wildly out of proportion to such a slight offense.

  "You brought donuts for breakfast? That was very thoughtful of you. Come on in and I'll make some tea."

  "I don't suppose you have any coffee?" Jesse asked as he followed her through the door. Tea was simply not a man's drink, in his view. Iced tea was passable on a hot afternoon, but he needed more than a cup of steeped herbs to get going in the morning.

  "I think I have some instant. Do you mind if it's decaffeinated?"

  "Don't bother looking for it," Jesse responded with a shudder. "I might as well drink the tea."

  Jesse slid into a chair at the breakfast table and hung his hat on the back of the one next to it. Aubrey filled the tea kettle and set it on the stove. She was wearing a white cotton robe sprinkled with violets and decorated at th£ neckline and cuffs with eyelet ruffles. Her hair had been brushed into its usual flattering mop of curls, and her features had been prettily accented with the light touches of makeup he was used to seeing her wear.

  "Are you going somewhere this morning?" he asked.

  Aubrey brought plates and napkins to the table and opened the Winchell's bag. "Yes, my assistants and I are beginning a three-day seminar for the Wells Fargo Bank. Glazed donuts are my favorite. Are they yours, too?"

  Jesse frowned, not pleased to learn she had plans. "Yeah, glazed and jelly filled. Will you be gone all day?"

  "Until the late afternoon, why?" Aubrey went to the refrigerator for a glass jar of cranberry juice and brought it and two small glasses back to the table.

  Jesse tapped the newspaper. "I don't like this at all. 'Unidentified male,*" he sneered. "You went there with me, not the other way around."

  Aubrey sat down opposite him and smoothed out the lavender and blue floral tablecloth before she poured juice for them both. "Do all cowboys have such inflated egos?"

  "It's not a question of ego," Jesse said. "It's a question of giving the killers, and I'm sure they'll read this article, the impression you are going to provide clues to the Far-rells' disappearance. If you'd murdered four people and gotten away with it, what do you think you'd do if you learned there was a psychic on your trail?"

  Aubrey shook her head. "How many times must I swear I'm not psychic before you'll believe me? Yesterday's vision was probably no more than a strange fluke. It never happened to me before, and I sincerely hope it won't ever happen again."

  Recalling how sick she had gotten, he understood her concern. "Whether or not you have psychic talent isn't really the issue. It's what the killers think that will count"

  The tea kettle gave its first faint sputtering whistle. Aubrey got up, took a canister of imported tea bags from the cupboard, and went to the stove. "My publisher will be delighted I got a mention in the Times. It will undoubtedly sell a few more books, but I've learned not to pay any attention to the publicity I receive. Anyone who kills a whole family can't be frightened easily. I don't think today's story will faze them."

  When she returned to the table with two blue earthenware mugs filled with orange spice tea, Jesse tried again.

  "Where do your parents live? Could you go home and stay with them awhile?"

  Aubrey took one of the donuts and began to pull it apart with her fingers. She never bought pastries for herself because they lacked even a hint of nutritional value, but she couldn't deny how delicious they were. "This is my home. My folks moved up to Seattle a couple of years ago, and while I'm sure they would love to
have me visit them, I have too many commitments to get away now." - His apprehension mounting, Jesse leaned forward slightly. "What sort of commitments? Seminars, or more personal ones?"

  Aubrey's glance cooled noticeably. "Let's leave my personal life out of this discussion. I'm very well paid for the seminars and when I contract to do one, I never cancel. What if your name had been in the paper? Would you be high-tailing it back to Arizona this morning?"

  Jesse responded with a derisive laugh. "That's different."

  "Why? Because you're a man?"

  "You guessed it."

  Aubrey watched him finish his first donut and start on another. Why she had expected him to recognize his opinion as blatandy sexist, she didn't know, but she realized there would be no point in belaboring the issue with a man who was obviously blind to such an important point.

  "I don't suppose there's even the slightest possibility that your relatives actually did leave town on their own?"

  "None," Jesse assured her. "They were either murdered at home or kidnapped and murdered elsewhere." He tapped the newspaper photograph. "And now whoever did it is going to be looking for you."

  Before Aubrey could respond, Trisha Lynch came through the back door. "Ready to go?" she called out as she walked through the service porch and into the kitchen.

  When she found Aubrey seated at her breakfast table with the good-looking cowboy from Saturday's seminar her mouth fell agape.

  Jesse quickly rose to his feet. "Good morning, Ms. Lynch. It's nice to see you again."

  Aubrey also stood, and while she had absolutely no reason to be embarrassed, her cheeks grew warm with an incriminating blush. "I'm sorry, Trisha. I lost track of the time. Just give me a minute/'