Nothing Short of Perfect Page 6

  “It was sex.”

  She flinched and he realized he’d hurt her. Really hurt her. She moistened her lips and gave a curt nod. “Of course. Well, thanks for the amazing sex, Justice.”

  Without another word, she turned and left the bedroom and his only thought was that she considered their sexual encounter amazing. He wasn’t sure any of his previous partners had ever called it amazing. It shouldn’t matter, and yet somehow it did. He heard her rummage around in her carryall for endless moments, the contents clashing and chattering in agitation. Then silence. What the hell was she doing? Because he knew damn well she hadn’t left. He could still feel her. And that alone threatened to drive him insane. Finally, finally, finally, the suite door opened and closed behind her.

  He released his breath in a long sigh. Okay, she was gone, this time for good. It might have taken fourteen-point-six minutes instead of the nine plus he’d originally calculated, but at least the confrontation was behind him. He headed for the living area and crossed to the phone, intent on alerting the front desk of his early departure. Sitting on the desk he found a book that hadn’t been there before. A children’s storybook. He set Rumi aside and reached for the book, hesitating at the last minute.

  The cover exploded with color, teeming with plants and flowers that seemed to overrun the jacket. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the chaotic riot of shape and shade. Then the analytical side of his brain kicked in and he began to separate the various objects, leaf from bud, fruit from flower, until finally he caught the intense gold eyes peering through the jungle foliage, their appearance almost identical to her tattoo.

  The eyes were also eerily familiar, maybe because he looked at them every damn day in the mirror.

  He touched the cover, tracing the bit of black panther she’d buried within the scene. Unable to help himself, he opened the book. She’d autographed it with her first name and a swift sketch of a flower—a daisy, of course. “To Justice,” she wrote. “I got it wrong. You’re not Cat.”

  The words didn’t make any sense to him until he leafed through the pages and discovered that she’d named the panther Cat. Beside the huge jungle cat romped a domesticated kitten named Kit. She was a tabby, one with green eyes and wheat-blond stripes, identical in name and appearance to the kitten he’d given Daisy the day they’d made love. He’d chosen the silly creature because it reminded him of her. He’d even tied a huge floppy green bow around its neck, one that had been half-shredded by the time he’d presented Daisy with the kitten.

  Unable to resist, Justice flipped the book to the beginning and read more carefully this time. He quickly realized this was the first in a series of books about the adventures of Kit and Cat, and told the tale of a kitten lost in the jungle who meets a panther cub. The two became best friends. Kit caused nothing but trouble and Justice found himself smiling since it was so similar to the sort of escapades Daisy used to get into. But Cat was always there to rescue her, to protect her from the dangers of the jungle. Even when it meant choosing between her and his pride, Cat faithfully remained by Kit’s side.

  He flipped the book closed and his glance fell on Rumi. Somehow, at some point during his argument with Daisy, he’d transformed the sphere. It sat on the desk, its ebony pieces gleaming in the sunlight, the mathematical symbols flowing symmetrically across the metallic petals of the flower he’d created.

  A daisy.

  Justice’s hands balled into fists and he took a step back, rejecting both creations—book and flower. He wasn’t Cat any more than she was Kit. Even more telling, she’d made a mistake in the book. Didn’t she know? Hadn’t she researched her facts? Panthers didn’t have prides.

  Panthers were loners.

  Four

  Nineteen months, fifteen days, five hours,

  nineteen minutes and forty-three seconds later…

  Daisy jiggled the tiny earbud that never seemed willing to fit properly in her ear. “Are you sure you have the directions right, Jett?” she asked the girl she’d agreed to foster nearly a year earlier.

  “Positive,” came the breezy retort.

  With an exclamation of disgust, Daisy pulled off the pavement and onto the narrow shoulder. A harsh November wind swept by, causing the small compact rental to shudder from the blast. This time of year never failed to depress her. It was an in-between season that offered neither the crisp and glorious richness of fall, nor the deep, frosty slumber of full winter. Instead, it hovered somewhere in the middle, a twilight that was neither a beginning nor an end, not a becoming nor a final metamorphosis.

  She snagged the map from the passenger seat and fought through the various fanlike folds to spread it open across the steering wheel, even though she could picture every road and turn in perfect detail from the last time she’d checked it. Sure enough, her memory hadn’t failed her. None of the various lines and squiggles included the turnoff for the homestead Jett had described.

  “Listen up, Jett,” Daisy announced. “I’m lost in the wilds of Colorado. This place isn’t on the map and your stupid GPS is demanding I make a U-turn at my earliest convenience and leave. I’m inclined to do what she suggests.”

  “Dora is an idiot,” Jett announced cheerfully.

  “I believe I told you that when you insisted I take her.”

  “She’s still young. Give her time to mature.”

  Daisy choked on a laugh. “She’s young? That’s rich, coming from you.”

  “I’m sixteen and eight months, or I will be tomorrow. Dora is eleven months and three days, the exact same age as Noelle.”

  Daisy flinched at Jett’s precision. Even though there was no biological relationship, her comment was so like Justice. When would she get over it? When would those little reminders finally stop bothering her? Never. That’s when.

  As impossible as it seemed, she’d fallen in love with Justice when she’d been little more than a child and had been devastated when he’d disappeared without a word of explanation. Without even saying goodbye. She’d mourned for years, searched for him for years, the constant hope dancing in her heart that he’d somehow find his way back to her. So strong was the hope that she refused to form any other attachments until her junior year at college. To her intense disappointment that relationship had never matched what she’d experienced with Justice.

  And then a miracle had happened and she’d found him again. Despite the fact that they’d only shared a single night together, this latest parting had been far worse, perhaps because they’d bonded on an adult level. Or so she’d thought. For those few short hours she’d opened herself completely to him, just as she had as a teenager. Allowed herself to believe that he’d connected as deeply and utterly as she had.

  If it hadn’t been for her daughter, she didn’t know how she’d have gotten through the past year and a half. And now that it had become apparent that Noelle shared her father’s brilliance, Daisy had tracked Justice down to the bitter ends of the earth. Though Jett didn’t realize it, the brazen teen reminded her of him, as well, possessing both his keen intellect in addition to his meticulous nature. Of course, she also reminded Daisy of herself at that age—creative, a bit outrageous, brash, and pure trouble waiting to happen.

  Daisy set her jaw, thinking about the coming confrontation with Justice. Somehow, someway, she needed to harden herself against her emotions. To shut them off as cleanly as he had. She couldn’t risk tumbling a third time. She didn’t think she’d survive it.

  “Okay, Jett. Let’s get this done,” Daisy announced. “Now where am I and how do I get to Justice? Because from what I can see, there’s nothing out here for a billion miles.”

  “That’s quite a feat considering the circumference of the earth is only 24,901.55 miles. That’s at the equator. If you’re referring to the circumference from pole to pole—”

  Daisy’s back teeth clamped together. “You know what I mean.”

  Jett had initially been her parents’ foster child. She’d still be one, if the Marcelluses had
n’t withdrawn from the program due to her father’s heart attack. When he’d become ill, Jett begged Daisy to take the required steps necessary to foster her since the two had struck up a firm friendship. Fortunately, Daisy’s storybook series had been a huge hit, one that provided the sort of royalty checks enjoyed by only an elite few, enabling her to live her life as she saw fit, including fostering a precocious teenager. That had been ten months ago and they’d discovered to their mutual delight that the arrangement worked well for them both.

  “Okay, listen and obey,” Jett instructed. “Drive precisely three-point-two miles south from your current location. There will be a dirt road on your left. Turn down it. Continue on for another ten-point-nine miles. If you still don’t see anything, call me.”

  “And one more thing… How do you know where I am?”

  “Dora told me.”

  Daisy sighed. “Tattletale.”

  “Noelle and I are following your GPS signal, aren’t we, Red?”

  Daisy caught the happy babble of her daughter’s voice slipping across the airwaves and found herself missing her baby more than she thought possible. It was the first time she’d left Noelle for an extended period of time and she found the separation beyond distressing.

  She put the car in gear and pulled out onto the pavement. “I’ll call you when I get there.”

  “We’ll be waiting.”

  An undercurrent of excitement threaded through Jett’s voice. Ever since she discovered Daisy actually knew The. Great. Justice. St. John. and more impressive, he was Noelle’s father, Jett had worked nonstop to uncover his lair. At least, that’s how Daisy thought of it, considering he kept his location so well hidden. Heaven knew, she’d never been successful at locating him. And she had tried.

  The minute she’d discovered she was pregnant, she’d spent a full year and a half attempting to track him down with zero success. She’d sent endless letters through every engineering source she could think of, again with zero success. It had taken Jett precisely one month. Okay, twenty-nine days, eleven hours, fourteen minutes and a handful of seconds. The teenager had noted the exact time in her final progress report. Which brought Daisy to her current location and task…to snare the elusive panther in his equally elusive den.

  The fourteen-point-whatever mile drive took nearly an hour. Daisy couldn’t help but think the rutted road, one that threatened to break both axles, as well as shake loose most of her teeth, was a deliberate attempt on Justice’s part to keep unwanted visitors from accidentally stumbling across him. Because, sure enough, the instant Dora’s mileage indicator hit the combined distance of surface and dirt roads Jett had decreed, Daisy crested a hill and found a huge complex sprawled beneath her, blending so beautifully into the surrounding meadow that it almost looked like a mirage.

  Brigadoon rising from the mists of time.

  She put through a call to Jett. “I’m here.”

  “I found it? For real?” Jett practically squealed in excitement, sounding for the first time in a long time like a typical teenager, something she definitely was not. “Yes!”

  “You’re pumping your fist, aren’t you?”

  “Yes!”

  “I’ll call you after my meeting.”

  “I want it word for word.”

  “I have a photographic memory, not audiographic, but I’ll do my best.”

  Daisy removed the earbud and switched it off. Shoving the car in gear, she rolled down the hillside toward what appeared to be a ranch complex, complete with barn, paddock, pastures, homestead and even a windmill. Despite that, a vague sensation of emptiness hung over the place, as though time held its breath. Rolling to a stop in front of the sprawling house, she switched off the engine and sat, fighting for calm.

  All during the lengthy process of tracking Justice down, she’d shied away from considering how she’d deal with “the moment” when they finally came face-to-face. What would she say? How would he react? Would he even care that she’d given birth to their daughter?

  Or would he say something clever like, “Fascinating,” and then go invent more robotic whatzit sensors and cooperating actuators with autonomous humans, or whatever he was the best on the planet at doing. Not that it mattered. So long as he acknowledged his daughter, acknowledged his responsibility in her creation and supplied their baby with what she needed, Daisy didn’t really care what he did or where he did it.

  So. This was it.

  She eyed the wide front porch and gnawed on her lower lip. No more procrastinating. Time to beard the mad scientist in his secret lab. Smacking her palm against the steering wheel for emphasis, she shoved open the door to the rental car, climbed out and slammed it closed. Marching up the steps to the front porch, she crossed to the entryway. Something about it struck her as odd and it took a moment to realize what.

  No windows in or around the door.

  No handle.

  No doorbell or knocker.

  Damn.

  Balling up her fist, she pounded on the thick oak barricade. “Justice? Justice St. John? I want to talk to you.”

  Nothing.

  She gave the door a swift kick for extra emphasis. “I’m not leaving, Justice. Not until we talk.”

  Not a sound. Not a reaction of any kind. It was as though the house slept. Daisy shivered. Almost like it was caught in some other moment in time or an alternate universe. Another dimension, maybe, like Brigadoon. Maybe it wasn’t time for them to wake up, yet.

  Or maybe he simply wasn’t home.

  She paced in front of the door, wondering what she should do next. And that’s when she noticed another oddity about the doorway, a reflective gleam buried in the trim work. She paused in her pacing and studied the anomaly. Son of a gun. A camera. Someone was watching and she’d bet her next four impressively large royalty checks she knew who it was.

  Well, now. Wasn’t that interesting? She might stink at math, but she could solve this particular equation. She’d found the God of Geekdom hiding in an unmarked valley in Colorado, buried behind thick walls with a door but no handle, the place as unwelcoming as he could make it. Oh, she could add up those numbers to equal…

  She marched straight up to the camera and tilted her face so she could glare directly at the tiny circle of glass. “Justice? You either open this door or I’m going to get on the phone and call every media source I can think of and tell them where you live. And then I’m going to get on the internet and post the location on every geek-site I can find.”

  An instant later the front door emitted a persnickety click and eased inward a fraction. Daisy gave it a shove, not the least surprised when it opened to her touch. She stepped across the threshold into a chilly gloom that left her squinting. The door swung closed behind her and the dead bolt slammed home with a rifle-sharp retort, locking her inside.

  “If that’s meant to scare me, you didn’t succeed,” she announced. Then in an undertone, “Intimidated me a little bit, maybe, but you didn’t scare me.”

  Daisy glanced around the foyer, struggling to get a good look at her surroundings. Difficult, considering the lack of natural light. What was the deal with windows around here? The cold air contained a stale, dusty quality, as though the area was rarely used. Justice certainly hadn’t wasted any of his trillions heating this section of his homestead and she shivered in the confines of her thin coat, missing the Florida warmth and sunshine.

  She took another step into the dimness. Without any carpeting to absorb the sound, the impact of her shoes against the slate flooring bounced in noisy protest off the featureless walls. She looked around, curiosity combining with nervousness. The huge entranceway lacked the usual bits and pieces most foyers contained. No tables or racks or mirrors or pictures or freestanding artwork. Just…emptiness. Well, and dust. She turned in a slow circle looking for a light switch and coming up empty. Okay, that was just weird.

  What little she could see through the gloom of the surrounding rooms spoke of huge expanses of space as stark and empt
y as the foyer, though she could see their potential in the flow and symmetry of the overall structure. She particularly liked the liberal use of wood, not to mention the fact that the other rooms had honest-to-goodness windows, even if they were shuttered. Why in the world would he live in such a magnificent home and keep it closed up and empty? It didn’t make any sense.

  Before she could work up the nerve to explore, she caught the hard clip of boots ringing against floorboards, the sound echoing through the painful emptiness. The footsteps moved in her direction at a steady, unhurried pace. For some reason that firm, deliberate tread added to the intimidation factor, his coming an inescapable certainty.

  No turning back now.

  A moment later his impressive form filled a doorway to her right, one draped in dense shadow. Everything inside of her blossomed to life, responding to the man instinct told her was Justice, even though she couldn’t see him clearly. She closed her eyes, fighting against an almost overpowering urge to race toward him and throw herself into his arms. To allow all she kept bottled inside to burst free, like spring sunshine burning away the ice damming a river’s reckless flow.

  “How did you find me, Daisy?” His cold voice cut through the darkness with knifelike sharpness, confirming his identity. Not that she had any doubt.

  She sighed. How like him to skip over the social niceties. “Hello, Justice. I’m fine, thanks. Yes, it’s been a long drive. Why, yes, I’d love something to drink.”

  He didn’t respond immediately. And then, “You threatened to expose me to the media.”

  “You wouldn’t let me in. It was the only leverage I had.” This was ridiculous. She crossed the foyer toward him, feeling the bond between them tighten and ensnare her with each step she took. “Come on, Justice. Get us something to drink and let’s sit down and talk. It’s important.”

  The closer she came the more clearly she could see him. Dear heaven, but he’d changed during the months they’d been apart. An icy remoteness cascaded off of him in frosty waves. He’d become harder, more self-contained than ever. What had happened to cause such a change?