Her Secret Santa Page 2

  No, they didn’t freeze, Jacq silently corrected. They mesmerized, holding her while they searched. Searched for…Her brows drew together. Searched for…What? Why had he been looking at her so intently at the party? “I’d still like to know why I have to be there,” she murmured. “I’m not a Limelighter.”

  “You were.”

  A wintry coldness settled into Jacq’s tone. “Briefly. Since I’m not with the firm any longer, why insist I attend this meeting? I have no influence over how you three conduct business.”

  “Do you plan to hold that incident against Dad for ever?” J.J. questioned in distress. “It was horrible, I admit. But it worked out in the end, right? After all, you received Grandmother’s inheritance. That went a long way toward compensating you for that fiasco, didn’t it?”

  Jacq fought for patience. “Grandmother Lacey gave me the cottage and exactly one thousand dollars.”

  “So you’ve said. But if that’s true…” J.J. frowned. “Where does your money come from? You never leave the cottage to go to work, and yet—”

  Jacq averted her gaze. Her secret identity was becoming more and more difficult to keep hidden from her family. Unfortunately if they ever found out, she’d lose the precious anonymity she’d enjoyed these past few years. “The rest of you received the main house. It was a fair division,” Jacq finished with careful deliberation. Thankfully, the reminder succeeded in deflecting her sister’s attention.

  “We get to keep the main house only as long as we don’t invade your privacy.” A reluctant smile quivered at the edges of her mouth. “I can’t even knock on your door without fear of violating the will.”

  “You can knock,” Jacq replied mildly. “You just can’t come in without an invitation.”

  “Look—Could we get back to the point of this conversation? Will you come tonight?”

  “I’m thinking.”

  “Could you think a little faster? You’re not Blackstone. Give me a simple yes or no answer. We need time to invent an excuse if you refuse.”

  Jacq sighed. Her choices were clear. Since her family wouldn’t dare risk encroaching on her privacy, she could refuse their request and stay home without worrying about a herd of Randells descending on her door. Grandmother’s will had seen to that. Or she could attend this little meeting her father had arranged and suffer through whatever unpleasant surprises he intended to spring. There was one distinct advantage to that plan of action.

  If she went, she’d have another opportunity to study Mathias Blackstone. Only this time it would be up close and personal. She could analyze his various expressions, watch him move, pin down the exact shade of those odd green eyes. Getting better acquainted with Blackstone would breathe life into her still-sleeping dragon. The temptation proved too great to resist.

  “Okay, I’ll do it,” she said. “What time?”

  “Si—Er, five-thirty. And for heaven’s sake, don’t be late!” J.J. made a dismissive gesture. “Although why I bother to tell you that, I don’t know. It’s like asking the sun not to shine.”

  “It is rather pointless,” Jacq conceded. “But if it makes you feel any better, it isn’t deliberate. Honest. I just lose track of time.”

  “I don’t know how that’s possible,” J.J. grumbled. “It’s not like you have anything else to occupy your thoughts. All you do is hide out in that cottage of yours and paint.” A glint of curiosity shone in her dark eyes. “At least, I assume you’re painting. Not that you’ve ever bothered to show us the results.”

  “Trust me. You wouldn’t be interested,” Jacq replied with careful nonchalance. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to hide out in my cottage some more.”

  “At least leave the phones plugged in so we can reach you,” J.J. called. “Please?”

  Jacq lifted a hand in acknowledgment as she left. Cutting through the sprawling garden at the back of the house, she headed toward the small cottage tucked at the far end of the property. Surrounded by a huge ivycovered wall, it perched on the edge of Lake Washington. She adored her hideaway and thanked Grandmother Lacey every day for her unexpected benevolence.

  After Jacq had left Limelight, she’d been adrift, not quite sure which direction her life should take. That question had been settled with one decisive conversation with her grandmother.

  “You’re finally going to fulfill your dream,” Grandmother Lacey had announced two short months before her death. “You’re going to paint. And you’re going to paint full time, not just when Turk gives you the odd moment free. It’s what you’ve always wanted and I’m going to see to it that you have a chance to succeed.”

  She’d been as good as her word. She’d set up a studio for Jacq in the cottage and insisted that the story ideas and sketches that had accumulated over the years be sent out to various publishing companies. Unfortunately, she hadn’t lived long enough to witness Jacq’s success. It had been a devastating loss. In fact, it wasn’t until the will had been read that Jacq realized the full extent of her grandmother’s love. She’d been left the cottage to use as a studio. And a stipulation had been included in the will ensuring privacy while she worked toward her goal. No one could enter the cottage without permission or they’d lose the main house to charity.

  A sudden gust of wind tugged at her curls, whipping them into a frenzy. Wrapping her arms around her waist, Jacq ducked her head against the frigid air. The December morning felt raw, the steely gray clouds overhead heavy with the threat of rain. Next time she’d remember to grab her rain slicker. At least, she’d try to remember. Mundane matters such as that had a tendency to slip her mind. She’d lost count of the number of occasions she’d been caught in an unanticipated downpour. And in Seattle unanticipated downpours were always anticipated.

  She arrived home the same instant as the skies opened. Darting inside, she slammed the heavy oak door against the elements and breathed a sigh of relief. Angelica meowed a greeting, leaping from a nearby table to rub with feline affection against her leg.

  “Hello, sweetheart. I have messages, do I?”

  The cat purred an acknowledgment and Jacq glanced at her answering machine. Sure enough, the light blinked with unmistakable urgency. The first six calls were from J.J., each more pressing than the last. Fortunately, Jacq had taken it into her head to go in search of a book on broad-leaved plants. She liked to make certain the background elements in her paintings were as accurate and detailed as possible. Her appearance up at the main house had spared J.J. the hassle of coming down and pounding at the front door. The last message on the tape was from her agent, raving about the sales figures on her latest children’s book.

  “Hello, Jack Rabbitt. Oops! Sorry, I just remembered. You don’t want me leaving your pseudonym on your answering machine.” Elena sighed. “I hate these stupid contraptions. I’ll bet you have the phones turned off again, don’t you? Anyway…I don’t know what it is about elves and fairies and trolls, but your books are flying off the shelves. Those illustrations are pure magic. Hey, I have an idea. Have you ever given any thought to painting dinosaurs? They’re still popular with the buying public. Or how about dragons? Can you do dragons by any chance? Just a thought.”

  “Now there’s a cosmic coincidence,” Jacq murmured.

  “Anyway, call me. Okay? Ciao, babe. Talk to you soon.”

  Jacq grinned in satisfaction. “Pretty cool, Angel. Who’d have thought three years ago we’d make such a big splash? Bless Grandmother Lacey. If it hadn’t been for her…” A momentary darkness settled on her piquant features. “She gave me back my life. Didn’t she, sweetheart?”

  Angelica’s ears twitched and Jacq decided to take that as an agreement. Walking to the back half of the cottage with the cat at her heels, she carefully secured the door between the “public” section where she entertained the occasional visitor and the “private” area.

  It was here that she became her alter ego—Jack Rabbitt—author and illustrator of some of the most popular children’s books currently on the marke
t. Three years ago the first Jack Rabbitt book had hit the stores and become an overnight sensation. Since then, her popularity had seen explosive growth. It had proved a mixed blessing. Although it provided her with the independence she so desperately craved, it also brought a notoriety she hated. So far, she’d managed to keep her identity a deep, dark secret. So far. With any luck at all, she could keep it that way for the next thirty to forty years.

  Stepping into the studio, Jacq felt her tension drain away. This was the one and only place she felt truly at home. She studied her surroundings with a tiny smile. Pinned around the cavernous room were a series of sketches—every last one of them of an enormous black dragon with haunting green eyes.

  “Hello, Nemesis,” she whispered.

  Angelica meowed plaintively, fixing the beast with a suspicious gaze.

  “You’re not sure about him yet, are you, sweetheart?” Jacq tilted her head to one side, contemplating her work. “Give it time. Soon, he’ll be awake and breathing fire. Very soon now. And then you’ll find him as attractive as I do.”

  At precisely six o’clock, Turk opened the massive front door to the Randell mansion. “Blackstone. I’m pleased you could make it.” He offered his hand along with a hearty grin.

  Mathias shook hands, lifting an eyebrow as he entered. “Did you doubt I’d come? I did arrange this meeting.

  “Quite right. I just meant—” Turk cleared his throat and gestured down a long hallway. “I think you’ll find the library a convenient place to discuss business. Plenty of room. We can get comfortable and answer any questions you might have about Limelight International.” Taking the lead, he thrust open the first door they came to.

  Mathias entered the room and glanced around. As Turk had indicated, the library had been designed for comfort while offering absolute business efficiency. An impressive array of books lined the walls while an imposing oak desk dominated one end of the room. Randell utilized the other half as a sitting area. Discreet lighting illuminated plush chairs, a couch, an extra-wide coffee table and a wet bar. The liquor cabinet stood open, glasses and bottles at the ready.

  The hard sell would be accomplished there, Mathias realized with a touch of cynicism. As though to acknowledge that fact, Turk’s son and youngest daughter hovered on either side of a couch, waiting for him to join them. Once seated, he’d be neatly hemmed in by Randells. His eyes narrowed in displeasure. Only one component was missing. A very small, very vital component.

  Mathias turned to confront Turk. “Your entire family isn’t here.”

  “Er, no. I expect Jacqueline will show up any moment now.” Turk edged closer to the sitting area. “In the meantime, why don’t we—”

  “We’ll wait.”

  With that, Mathias strolled to the bookcase and began an intent study of the contents. A whispered, distinctly agitated conversation ensued from the general direction of the sitting area. No doubt they were arguing over who would go and fetch Jacq. Before they reached their decision, a sudden flurry of activity sounded behind him. He turned in time to see Jacq breeze into the room and her family start en masse toward her. They stopped in their tracks the instant they realized how their actions might be interpreted—or misinterpreted.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Jacq announced casually, oblivious to the undercurrents swirling around her.

  Her gaze fastened on Mathias and remained there. She studied him with the same direct intensity that he often gave his own pursuits. It filled him with an absolute certainty, an instinctive knowledge that the others in the room no longer existed for her. For this brief moment in time, he had become the center of her universe. His eyes narrowed as he assessed his reaction. As someone who worked hard to avoid attracting unnecessary attention, he’d never been the center of anyone’s universe. To his utter amazement, he discovered that he relished the feeling—relished it far more than wisdom dictated.

  “We haven’t been introduced,” he stated.

  A delicious smile tilted her mouth. “No, we haven’t.” She’d piled her wealth of curls on top of her head instead of confining them at the nape of her neck. As she approached, a multitude of escaped ringlets bounced in joyous abandonment about her slender neck and angled cheekbones. She held out her hand, saying simply, “I’m Jacq.”

  He captured her hand in his. “Mathias Blackstone.”

  She had strange eyes, the color quite unusual. One moment the irises appeared sharply brown and gold before exploding with brilliant green and gray highlights. It was as though her every thought had its own unique color combination. Fascinating. Quite fascinating.

  “Okay. I’m here,” she announced. “Just out of curiosity…Would you care to tell me why you asked me to come?”

  He stilled, wondering if his expression revealed his surprise at the directness of her question. Damn. He hoped not. “I wanted to meet you,” he answered just as directly.

  “Why?”

  “Jacq, for crying out loud,” Turk interrupted with a groan. “Could we at least sit down and have a drink before you start in on the man.”

  “But—”

  “You’ll have to excuse my daughter, Blacks tone.” He dropped a restraining hand on Jacq’s shoulder. For all their slender elegance, his fingers threatened to crush the fragile bones trapped within his grasp. “She’s not renowned for her tact.”

  For the first time in more years than he cared to remember, Mathias acted without thinking. He snatched Jacq from her father’s hold and into his own sphere of influence. “Excuse us for just a minute. I’d like to speak with your daughter,” he said, his voice taking on an unmistakable edge. When Turk continued to stand there, Mathias added pointedly, “Alone, if you don’t mind.”

  “I didn’t realize—I didn’t mean—” With a muttered excuse, Turk crossed to the sitting area, exchanging confused glances with Cord and J.J.

  “Are you all right?” Mathias asked in an undertone, brushing a gentle hand across her shoulder.

  “Dad didn’t mean anything by it,” Jacq replied just as quietly, fixing him with a speculative look.

  He understood that look. It asked why he’d interfered, why he’d reacted like a protective lover, instead of the stranger he happened to be. And the only response he could come up with was…damned if he knew. “Your father doesn’t know his own strength.”

  She shook her head. “He’d never deliberately harm me. But he’s under pressure tonight. And when that happens he sometimes forgets that I’m not built along the same proportions as Cord or J.J.”

  “It’s time he remembered.”

  Inquisitiveness gave her eyes a misty gray tint. “Is that why you’re here? To remind him?”

  “No.” He relaxed his guard enough to smile. “Would you believe I came to meet you?”

  “Me?” She shook her head, laughing softly. It was a husky, full-bodied laugh, and as with everything else about her, it held irresistible appeal. “I find that hard to believe. Although as a line, it has definite potential.”

  “I’ll work on it.” He had himself back under control—a very tenuous control, true. But it should be enough to get him through this meeting. “Shall we join the others?”

  She peeked around him toward the sitting area. “They are looking rather frayed around the edges,” she murmured. “I hope you’re planning to put them out of their misery.”

  “I’ll be quick. I promise.”

  He walked with her to the couch, blocking access to the chair the Randells had left vacant for Jacq. “Shall we get started?” Mathias said. “I have a dinner engagement at seven.”

  “Have a seat, Blackstone,” Turk said with forced heartiness. “What can I get you to drink?”

  “Nothing, thanks. I won’t be staying.”

  J.J. stirred. “Mr. Blackstone, perhaps you’d tell us why you arranged this meeting. Are you interested in utilizing Limelight’s services?”

  Mathias hesitated for a fraction of a second. Until this morning, he’d have been lying if he said he had someone i
n need of a PR firm. Fortunately, he’d been approached just today by a man who fit the bill. He’d most likely have turned the request down, too, if it hadn’t provided him with the perfect excuse to approach Limelight. “I’m interested in giving Limelight a trial run,” he announced.

  “We’re listening,” Turk said, all business.

  “I have a client who’s starting up an investment company and needs the sort of creative publicity only a topnotch PR firm can provide. Fair warning, he’s a rather particular client.”

  “Particular as in difficult?” Cord asked with his father’s frankness.

  “Let’s just say he requires special attention,” Mathias replied, not in the least offended by Cord’s candor. “If you’re successful, I’ll know your firm has the skill to handle my other business requirements.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Are you interested?”

  “We’re interested,” Turk responded. “When do we get started?”

  “I’ll fax you the details first thing in the morning.” He spared a quick glance at his watch. “And now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go. Jacq, I’d appreciate it if you’d see me out.”

  He could see the protest dawning in Turk’s expression. Before it could find voice, Mathias snagged Jacq’s elbow and walked to the door.

  “We’re leaving?” she asked, amused.

  “We’re leaving.”

  She didn’t say anything until they reached the front door. He found that intriguing. Most women would have demanded an explanation. But not this one. Instead, she walked beside him, her gait light and easy, her expression curious yet patient. She glanced up at him and smiled. It was an open, appealing smile, filled with an electrifying vitality.

  How the hell had Turk Randell fathered such a changeling? he couldn’t help but wonder.

  At the front door, she hesitated. “Considering what I know of your personality—which I confess isn’t all that much—I have to assume you had a reason for asking me to show you out.”