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“Don’t you women talk to one another about things like that?”
“Don’t people about to commit their lives to one another exchange a little family information?” she countered.
He cast her an irritated glance and sighed. “I know her mother is dead and she’s estranged from her father. I know that she invited less than a dozen people to the wedding and half of them were from the flower shop. That’s all I know.”
“Well, Thorn, believe it or not, that’s all I know, too. Let’s go—”
“Not yet. First we’ll take a look around here for a note or some kind of indication as to where she might be. You take the bedroom, I’ll take the living room and the kitchen.”
Alex found the bedroom at the end of a short hallway. Like the living room, this.room was tastefully decorated in a bewildering array of beiges, but unlike the bulk of the apartment, it was amply lit with a large window and a skylight making artificial illumination unnecessary.
She caught sight of herself in the mirror above the dresser and winced. The dress had not been her choice. The color did not flatter her dark eyes and hair and tended to wash out her skin tone. She had argued that it looked too bridelike, sure that Natalie would immediately switch her to bright blue or pink, but Natalie had just smiled and said, “It looks expensive. I like it!”
“It is expensive,” Alex had said, gulping when she got a look at the price tag. There was no swaying Natalie, however, and in the end, Alex had put a down payment on the yards and yards of flounce and fluff, knowing she’d never wear it after Natalie’s wedding.
Ah, she thought now. What I wouldn’t give for a pair of jeans and a tank top.
She felt like a trespasser as she opened a few drawers, coming away with the distinct impression that many items were missing. A peek in the closet confirmed that suspicion. There was a long rectangular impression left in the plush carpet that had to have been left by a suitcase. The clothes rod was half-bare.
So what? Natalie had packed for a three-week honeymoon in Hawaii. She’d talked of little else for the past month. She’d painted a picture of tropical nights and fragrant orchids, a picture only slightly marred by her continual reference to the first-class air tickets Thorn had booked and the deluxe suite they would enjoy once they got there.
A final glance around the room revealed a telephone by the bed and another answering machine. The telephone had a different number printed on the receiver, meaning Natalie had two separate phone lines. The message light was not blinking, but for some reason, Alex pushed it anyway. A mechanical voice informed her it would replay messages.
A male again, but not Thorn. This voice was lower pitched, older. “Nat, honey, you win. Meet me at Otter Point, we’ll go from there.”
Otter Point was on the Oregon coast. Alex had been there many times, though she’d never stayed in the luxurious hotel overlooking the cove, not with the prices they charged, not on her salary. But the beach was free and she loved to climb the black rocks and listen to the pounding surf. She rewound and replayed the message, glad that Thorn hadn’t heard it, undecided as to how to relay this piece of information.
“Play that again,” Thorn said from the doorway.
Alex swiveled around. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were like lasers as he stared at her, one hand on the doorjamb, the other in his trouser pocket. “Play it again,” he demanded.
She played it again.
“Damn her,” Thorn said.
“Now, Thorn, don’t jump to conclusions,” Alex cautioned.
“Jump to conclusions!” he yelled. He regained his composure and added, “I’m afraid I don’t see too many ways to interpret that message. Besides, you haven’t seen what’s in the hall closet.”
“Maybe that was her dad on the phone,” Alex said.
Thorn looked doubtful, but he said, “Play it again. Please.”
She played it yet again. The words were nebulous enough to leave the possibilities wide open, at least in Alex’s mind.
“I don’t think it’s herfather,” Thorn said. “He sounds old enough, but there’s some other quality to his voice I can’t pin down, except that it’s not paternal.” He took a step into the room and added, “The message sounds very personal to me. Damn! I think Natalie has flown the coop to hook up with whoever that is on the phone.”
This was the first thought that had crossed Alex’s mind but now she wasn’t so sure.
“If it was her father, why wouldn’t she have called the house or left me a note?” he added.
Alex shrugged. She wanted to say that Natalie was self-centered and that if something caught her attention, it was entirely possible she would forget all about Thorn, but she kept hearing Natalie talk about Thorn’s money. It was hard to believe she’d walk away from that and yet, apparently, she had.
Alex imagined that being stood up at the altar—even if it was for a long-lost father—would be hard for anyone to take, let alone someone like Thorn Powell, who had probably never been stood up in his entire life.
“Come look at what I found,” he said.
She followed him into the hall, where a narrow door stood open revealing a small closet. Heaped on the floor of the closet was Natalie’s wedding gown, tossed aside like a used tissue.
“Oh, dear—” Alex began.
“Still think she ran off to meet her father?”
“Well—”
“Because I’m having a hard time swallowing that scenario. She’s dumped this dress the same way she’s dumped our wedding, the same way she’s dumped me.”
“I admit it looks that way, but—”
“She’s not going to get away with it,” Thorn said suddenly and, turning on his heels, walked down the hall, Alex once again in hot pursuit.
“What are you going to do?” she called.
Ignoring her, he tore open the front door and disappeared outside.
Alex closed and locked the door behind her, then raced along the balcony to catch up with him. At the top of the stairs she hooked the toe of her right shoe in the hem of her long skirt and, for one terrifying second, thought she was going to end up at the bottom of the steep concrete stairs in a broken heap of torn silk and shattered bones. Gasping, she threw out her hands for balance and toppled forward.
Thorn wheeled and caught her with steady hands. Effortlessly, he swooped her into his arms and carried her down the stairs.
“This isn’t necessary,” she mumbled to his chin.
“I don’t have the time to cart you to the hospital,” he said. They had reached the ground and for one long second, he stared down into her eyes. The gray of his irises seemed fogged with doubt. Alex guessed this was an uncomfortable condition for him, that he wasn’t used to indecision.
He unceremoniously put her down on her feet.
“Thorn, what are you going to do?”
The confusion in his eyes fled like a flock of birds suddenly startled. “I’m going to find her,” he said. “She’s going to tell me what’s going on or I’m going to wring her pretty little neck.”
“But—”
“No buts.”
“Then I’m going with you,” Alex said firmly. Natalie wasn’t her best friend, and Alex certainly didn’t admire the way she was treating Thorn, but there was a murderous look in his eyes.
“No, thanks,” he said as he strode toward his car. She reached the passenger door as he slid in behind the wheel.
“You can either take me with you or I’ll follow you,” she told him.
“How? You don’t have a car.”
“You’re right. If you leave me here I’ll be stranded.”
“Call a cab,” he said as he put the key in the ignition.
She held up both empty hands. “How? I don’t have a penny on me.”
He shoved a hand in his pocket, then swore. “Neither do I,” he said.
“Listen, my feet are killing me and this bickering is just wasting time.”
He stared at her again, as though seeing her for the first time, then shook his head and heaved a sigh. “You’re right, it is. Okay. Just get in.”
Alex once again folded herself into the little car. She didn’t stop to wonder why she was foisting herself upon this poor man; she only knew that she felt compelled to accompany him.
After all, I’m the maid of honor, she mused, though she was pretty sure no etiquette book counted among the official duties hunting the bride down like one would a rabid dog.
“Fasten your seat belt,” Thorn told her as he drove the car through the winding streets.
She did as he asked—no mean feat, given that the dress increased her girth threefold—and said, “Where are we going?”
He shot her a quick glance with eyes that now brimmed with life. Alex realized he was a man used to taking action, used to dealing with a crisis by controlling it.
“Otter Point. Where else?” he said briskly.
Where else indeed?
Chapter Two (#ulink_23fb92d3-f91e-5fdb-8cdd-05b69d4bbf88)
Thorn made himself obey the speed limits, though every fiber of his body urged him to press the accelerator pedal right through the floor. When he’d checked his pockets for a quarter to give Alex to call a taxi, he’d realized he’d left the house not only without any loose change, but without his wallet. With no driver’s license in his possession, all he needed now was a cop with a quota to fill.
He stole another sidelong look at the woman seated beside him. She was staring straight ahead, her hair still partly piled on top of her head, her profile as distinct as a cameo. He had noticed her in the flower shop, had even wondered about her a little as she seemed so wrapped up in her work, her fingers deft, her concentration complete. But truth of the matter was, he’d been so centered on Natalie that this young woman had been little more than an attractive fixture in among the blossoms. She was as pretty as her flowers, he now noted, her skin as translucent as a petal, her lips full, her lashes black and long, her eyes a startling.shade of dusky blue.
She seemed to sense him staring at her and turned her head slightly, shooting him a quick nervous smile as she attempted to brush windblown strands of glossy dark hair away from her eyes. He guessed she was suffering second thoughts about the wisdom of accompanying him on this fool’s errand.
“There’s a scarf in the glove compartment,” he said.
Alexandra nodded slightly and retrieved the scarf. It was Natalie’s, of course—white and filmy, the stuff wedding gowns were made of. Thorn felt a small knot form in his throat as Natalie’s perfume hit his nostrils and then was gone. In his mind’s eye, he saw the crumpled dress in Natalie’s closet, the one she’d refused to let him see before the ceremony—hell, the one she’d bought with his money!
Maple and alder branches intertwined, forming canopies above the winding road that led from Cottage Grove to the Oregon coast. The river ran beside the road in places, and Thorn caught glimpses of people leading ordinary lives on this clear Saturday afternoon—swimming in the river, fishing, boating, picnicking.
“How could she do this to me?” he asked, not realizing until he heard Alexandra answer that he’d said it aloud.
“You’re assuming she’s done something wrong,” she said.
“Yes, I am. Humor me.”
“I don’t know the answer,” she mumbled.
“I’ve given that woman everything she wanted.”
“Well—”
“And she has wanted a lot, trust, me,” he added. He shook his head and glanced briefly at Alexandra. “You didn’t know about this other guy?”
“No,” she answered. “If there is another guy.”
“There’s another guy.”
“Assuming there is,” she said cautiously, “didn’t you suspect something was wrong?”
He shook his head again and then found himself pondering the question. The truth of the matter was that he and Natalie had never really talked much—it hadn’t seemed necessary. Words were for other people, for family and friends and business associates, not lovers. At least, that’s what he’d always thought, and Natalie had seemed to be in perfect harmony with this ideology.
“I know you were anxious to get married,” his passenger continued, “but maybe you should have given her more time. Maybe this whole thing is a blessing in disguise. Now you’ll have a chance to really talk to each other about how you feel—Yikes, Thorn, you’re awfully close to that bumper up ahead!”
He eased off the accelerator. “What do you mean, you know I was anxious to get married?”
“Natalie told me.”
“Natalie told you what!”
“That she wanted to wait a few months, but you insisted on a June wedding. She thought it was very romantic. Actually, everyone in the shop thought it was romantic.”
He furrowed his brow and shook his head, but he didn’t say anything. A subconscious thought surfaced like a dead guppy in a fishbowl. Did he really know Natalie Dupree at all?
The closer they got to the ocean, the chillier it became. Determined not to add to Thorn’s concerns, Alex shivered in her flimsy dress and didn’t ask him to put up the top of the car. The scarf helped keep her head moderately warm, and she found that she could half bury her bare arms in the voluptuous folds of her skirt.
At least her feet didn’t hurt anymore. She’d flicked off her shoes as soon as she got in the car and now she wiggled sore toes against the plush carpet, suspecting there was no way on earth she was ever going to get those pointed instruments of torture back on her feet.
It was early evening by the time they broke onto the coastal road and turned north. Alex knew it would take at least another hour of steady driving to reach their destination, and she clenched her teeth together to keep them from chattering. Thorn was driving at a much more moderate speed than she would have predicted. In a way, she wished he would speed up and get this drive over with.
For the first time, she began to wonder what exactly would happen when they reached Otter Point. Should she trail behind Thorn as he looked for his wayward bride, or should they separate and cover twice as much ground? No, she’d better stay close to him, at least close enough to act as a buffer so that Natalie didn’t have to face Thorn alone.
Actually, what she really wanted to do was to plant herself in the hotel lobby, preferably near a functioning heater vent. Maybe she should broach this subject now and together they could settle on a plan of action.
One short peek at Thorn quelled that notion. His features were set in a frown that suggested whatever events he was mentally reviewing weren’t happy ones. She decided she had no desire to interrupt his thoughts and looked ahead instead, anxious only to get this over with.
After a long, slow curve, the road straightened out and ran beside the beach. Only a few determined walkers and people throwing sticks for frantic dogs were visible. The promontory on the north end of the beach was called Otter Point, and even from a distance of two miles, Alex could make out the hotel, which appeared to cling to the rocks with the tenacious grip of a limpet. The tiers of decks jutting from the main structure were outlined in twinkling white lights, while the interior of the hotel glowed yellow in the gathering dusk.
“We’re almost there,” she said.
Thorn spared her half a glance but said nothing.
“Do you have any idea what you’re going to say to her?” Alex persisted.
“No.”
She took the hint—the man did not want to talk, at least not to her.
