Daddy Warlock (9 page)

“The problem is you!” retorted his sister. “You are bouncing. The cha-cha is done on the flat of the foot!”

She glanced at Tara as if for support, but Tara shrugged apologetically. She had no idea how the chacha was supposed to be executed, but to her unpracticed eyes, the brother and sister were doing a remarkable job.

She'd heard them practicing as she finished her work in the office, and she'd come into the courtyard to watch. Twilight was falling now, and, in response, the computerized floodlights shifted gradually to full strength.

“I was stepping back!” Rajeev returned “It is impossible to do that on the flat of the foot”.

“You aren't supposed to step back! You are supposed to lead.”

He turned off the boom box. “We have practiced enough for today. We are fighting.”

“We are not fighting! I am right and you are wrong, but you are too stubborn to admit it!” His sister glared at him, then began to smile. “So. You were bouncing and I was moving my shoulders. We were both wrong.”

“Yes, yes, that is true. Our school's competition is less than two months away,” Rajeev explained to Tara. “I think we will not be ready.”

“It's worth competing just to gain the experience, I should think,” she pointed out

“Yes! Exactly,” said Vareena. “Well, we can practice a little more, since we have leftovers for dinner.”

“There are no leftovers in the refrigerator,” advised the computer from a hidden speaker. “Rajeev ate them for his afternoon snack.”

“I will cook!” he said quickly, to forestall his sister's wrath. “Come, Vareena. One more run through!”

As she listened to the opening bars of the music, Tara wondered why Chance and Harry were taking so long at
the video store. But she was glad the two of them had hit it off.

Still, she didn't want Harry to become too attached. Her job here might last a few months or a few years, but it was temporary. It would be terrible if he began thinking of Chance as his father, only to lose him.

In front of her, the brother and sister resumed the Latin dance. This time, they kept their movements more level, with less bobbing on both sides.

Oddly, she could see herself dancing in this courtyard, long ago. She was swaying in Chance's arms, their movements so light her feet scarcely touched the flagstones.

He sensed each shift of her body, reflecting her slightest inclination so closely that she felt as if their bodies were melting together. It was like last night, when they'd embraced—except they hadn't It had been a dream. Both times, a dream.

She yawned, gulping in the cool air. This daydreaming wasn't like her. She felt like a schoolgirl, fantasizing about a boy on whom she had a crush.

Rajeev and Vareena had just finished dancing when Harry darted into the courtyard, with Chance following. Both of them wore bemused expressions.

“That was fun!” Harry declared.

“What did you rent?” Tara asked.

“Rent?” Her son blinked, puzzled.

Embarrassment flashed across Chance's face. “We were playing a game, trying to figure out which tapes other people would rent. We forgot to get one ourselves.”

“We can play a board game tonight,” Vareena suggested. “There is no need for videos.”

“You're both so kind to baby-sit,” Tara said. “I'm sorry to be gone two evenings in a row.”

“It is fun for us!” said Rajeev.

“Maybe I shouldn't—”

“It's a bit late to back down,” Chance said. “Lois would be very disappointed.”

“Who's Lois?” Harry asked.

“Your cousin.” His words hung in the air for a moment before he corrected himself. “I mean, my cousin!”

“You're right. I can't cancel now,” Tara conceded. “I'd better go change.”

L
OIS'S NEW ADDRESS
turned out to be the penthouse unit in a swank building on Wilshire Boulevard. Chance took in the elegant lobby and paneled elevator with growing dismay.

“Wow,” Tara said as they emerged on the top floor. “How does a recent college graduate afford a place like this?”

“That's a good question.”

Ray paid his top employees well, but only if they made contributions that helped his business. That category included special-effects designers and innovators at computer graphics, not business graduates with the ink still wet on their diplomas.

His cousin had graduated near the top of her class, but she lacked experience. Chance had never heard that the girl had any particular psi talents, either.

If she weren't psychic, she must be willing to aid and abet whatever schemes his father was devising. With his attention occupied by Tara and Harry, Chance wasn't sure he had the energy or interest to rescue his cousin from her own character flaws.

But he had promised Aunt Cynda that he would help. Maybe a few well-chosen warnings were all it would take to bring Lois to her senses.

As he listened to the doorbell echo inside the spacious apartment, he wondered how corruptible his young cousin was. Her choice of an apartment showed a taste for luxury, which was not a good sign.

On the other hand, he recalled Lois from family gettogethers as a bright, articulate young woman, eager to learn and quick to question those around her. Surely she would soon realize that there was more to life than enriching oneself at the expense of others.

Perhaps he could find a place for her in his own company. Chance was considering opening a Northern California office, which would mean relocating some of his top staff and creating several positions locally. He couldn't pay an inexperienced staffer enough to afford a place like this, but there would be advancement opportunities.

Then the door swung open. Standing there, brightfaced and welcoming, was his cousin, her dark hair cut in a chic wedge and her designer suit made of ultrasoft silk.

Standing right behind her, his square-jawed face slashed by a calculated smile, waited Raymond Powers.

The tension between Chance and his father was evident from the moment the two locked gazes in the doorway, bracing themselves in a way that reminded Tara of two wolves sizing each other up.

She knew from comments Chance had made over the past few days that the two had parted company over some disagreement on ethics. But that didn't explain why Raymond had chosen to attend this dinner.

Of the four of them, only Lois seemed at ease. In fact, as she guided them into the sunken living room where a uniformed maid was serving cocktails, she seemed to delight in playing hostess.

It didn't take a genius to see that tonight's invitation hadn't been a spontaneous expression of hospitality. Lois was helping her boss play some game, and relishing the opportunity.

As they made introductions and exchanged pleasantries, Tara tried to sort out her impressions of these two people. Lois was articulate and surprisingly poised for such a young woman. Her friendliness had an opaque quality, but Tara wasn't sure whether the woman was hiding something or simply lacked depth.

Raymond Powers was tall, like his son, but heavyset,
and without Chance's spontaneous warmth. A thick white streak slashed his coal-black hair, and Tara suspected he had instructed his hairdresser to create the effect to enhance his dramatic image.

She doubted the man ever did anything without weighing the advantages. Yet she didn't sense any cruelty in him, just the kind of unquestioning self-interest that one might expect from, say, a cat.

“A good businessman never rests on his laurels.” Ray was saying to his son as the maid served a tray of appetizers. “Expand or die, that's the watchword of the day.”

“Are you thinking of expanding, then?” Chance asked.

Ray and Lois exchanged glances, and Tara gathered that the point had not been raised by accident. “We've got some talks scheduled in a couple of weeks about an acquisition.” Raymond leaned back in his easy chair.

“What kind of company?”

“CD-ROM gaming.” Ray lit a cigarette and glanced around for an ashtray. Lois handed him one. “It's a wideopen field. Combining our special-effects know-how with their experience in writing and programming games, we could corner a chunk of the market.”

“Sounds like a marriage made in heaven,” Chance murmured.

“First we have to persuade the lady to say yes, so to speak.” Ray inhaled a lungful of smoke. “And reach a prenuptial agreement that's mutually acceptable.”

“I see.” From his cool tone, Chance must be seeing something that Tara had missed.

“The management of the company plays its cards close to its chest”, Raymond said. “I wish they would
be more specific about their concerns. As you know, I'm not a mind reader.”

“I'm sure they're telling you as much as they think you need to know”, Chance said.

Tara kept getting the impression that there were undercurrents to this conversation. Perhaps that was always the case between parents and their grown children, especially if they didn't get along.

She felt a pang of regret for the estrangement with her own father. She would happily trade his cold rejection for Raymond's manipulations, or whatever he was doing tonight. While there was contact, there was still hope of a reconciliation.

The conversation switched to the state of the economy and then to politics. When the maid announced dinner, they adjourned to the capacious dining room.

The more she thought about it, the less likely it seemed that Lois could afford to live this way on a beginner's salary. Most likely the apartment belonged to Raymond's company, and for some reason he was indulging his young cousin by letting her live there.

Tara didn't get the sense there was anything romantic between the two. Maybe the man simply like helping relatives, or maybe he considered Lois a valuable ally. But in what way?

Once the veal marsala, asparagus and new potatoes had been served and everyone's wineglasses filled, the conversation turned to a recent article about Chance. It had detailed his successes in predicting the stock market.

“It's almost as if he has a sixth sense,” Lois told Tara. “You're working with him, so maybe you can tell us. I'm dying to know—how does he do it?”

“Research,” Tara said promptly. “Thoroughness. And instinct, I guess. Why don't you ask Chance?”

“He's very closemouthed about his methods.” Raymond savored a mouthful of asparagus before continuing. “It's the instinct part that interests me. What kind of instinct? How does it work?”

“Nothing mysterious about it.” Chance hardly touched his food, as if he needed to keep all his senses alert. “It's a matter of paying close attention to the news and picking up on trends.”

“I could use some of that instinct in my business.” The blandness in Ray's tone was belied by the tension in his arm as he reached for his wineglass.

He bumped it, and the glass teetered at a dangerous angle. Tara gasped, certain the purple liquid was about to soak the white linen tablecloth. At the last instant, the cup righted itself, almost in defiance of the laws of gravity.

Ray smiled. “Haven't lost the old touch, have I?”

Lois beamed. Chance shrugged. Tara wondered what on earth the man was talking about.

“The real trick,” Ray said, “would be to get inside people's heads. Even exercise a little mind control, which I always thought might be possible if a person applied himself. A person with the right gifts, of course.”

“And the wrong ethics,” said Chance.

Lois sighed. “I just don't seem to have the family touch.”

“For what?” said Tara.

She felt Ray's attention swing toward her, as if he were really seeing her for the first time. “Intuition, as my son calls it. How about you, my dear? Do you pick up feelings from other people, get a sense of how they're likely to act?”

“Not to any unusual degree.” Tara wished she didn't feel as if she were on display. The food was delicious,
but she could hardly taste it anymore. “Except where my son is concerned, of course. Mothers always have a sixth sense about their children.”

A stillness fell over the table, and then Lois said, “My goodness, I didn't realize you were married. My grandmother said you and Chance—I mean—”

“I'm not married,” Tara said.

“Divorced?”

“No.” She felt no obligation to elaborate, but it looked as if her hostess were going to pry further.

It was a relief when Ray intervened. “So you have a son. How old is he?”

“Six.” Pleased to be on a less touchy subject, Tara said, “He's very bright but mischievous.”

“Sounds like he's all boy.” Ray nodded his approval. “What sort of mischief does he get into?”

Again, Tara got the feeling she was being questioned for a reason, but what possible interest could these people have in Harry? “Well—”

“Just the usual stuff,” Chance said. “He's very interested in Softball. Think you might like to come over and toss a ball around sometime, Dad?”

Judging by Raymond's expression of distaste, tossing softballs was not one of his favorite activities.

The maid cleared their dishes and poured coffee. Ray lit another cigarette, and the conversation became general until they were alone with their slices of chocolate cheesecake.

Ray turned to Tara. “Tell me something. Suppose you learned that your son had an unusual ability. Let's say he had a gift for healing, but he refused to use it. Wouldn't you urge him to become a doctor and use that gift?”

“That's not a fair analogy.” Chance's mouth tightened.
“Healing involves helping people, not taking advantage of them.”

This must be the crux of the matter, Tara thought. Raymond wanted his son to apply his instincts to furthering the proposed acquisition. Chance objected to the way his father conducted business and didn't want to let his talents be misused.

“I would certainly discuss the possibilities with my son” she said, “but I'd also listen to what he had to say. Ultimately our children have to follow their own hearts, Mr. Powers, and as parents we need to know when it's time to let go.”

A smile softened Chance's face. Warmth flooded Tara as she realized she had said the right thing.

Neither Lois nor Ray appeared satisfied, however, and the conversation lagged. As they said good-night, she gathered the dinner hadn't gone as they hoped.

When she and Chance were in the car, she said, “Your father must hold a very high opinion of you, to bring so much pressure to bear.”

“I wish he would take your advice.” There was resignation and sadness in his voice. “The man just doesn't know when to quit.”

“My father quits too easily,” Tara said.

“My mom was the one who quit too easily in our family.” Chance's eyes glittered in the. dark. “She left when I was a child, completely cut off contact. I don't even know where she is.”

“Have you tried to find her?”

He let out a low breath. “No. I respect her privacy. And I suspect my father might have been pressuring her to do something unethical. I just hope she didn't regret giving birth to me.”

“What a terrible thought!” Tara couldn't imagine why he would even think such a thing.

“They didn't marry for love,” Chance explained. “Tara, listen. My family is unusual. It may be hard to grasp, but I want to come clean with you.”

After tonight's uncomfortable dinner with his cousin and father, Tara wasn't sure how much she wanted to hear. Still, she treasured the fact that Chance was taking her into his confidence. “Is it anything like your aunt Cynda and her crystal ball?”

“Quite a bit like that,” he agreed.

“Well, if I had a crystal ball, I'd say you were going to hit somebody unless you quit swerving around in your lane,” griped the car's computer.

“I wasn't swerving—much,” said Chance.

“Look out!” cried the car as the traffic ahead stopped suddenly and Chance had to slam on the brakes. “You see what I mean?”

He turned to Tara. “I'll tell you what Let's continue this discussion where I don't have to watch out for traffic. There's a whirlpool bath on my private patio. Do you feel like a soak?”

Now that he mentioned it, her shoulders ached from bending over the computer that afternoon. “I'd love it,” she said.

L
URING TARA
into his whirlpool bath by moonlight probably hadn't been the best idea in the world, Chance scolded himself as he stepped out of his bathroom wearing black trunks. He'd been so preoccupied by the conversation at dinner that he hadn't considered the ramifications of getting her alone at night in scanty clothing.

He simply wanted an uninterrupted chance to explain what was going on, and to unwind after that tense dinner.
It was time to take another step toward her acceptance of Harry as he really was.

It troubled him that Ray had learned of the boy's existence. If he knew the truth, he would almost certainly try to subvert Harry's talents to his own advantage. But Chance didn't intend for his father to find out about the boy's parentage.

Tara had come through like a trooper. Even without understanding the subtext of the discussion, she'd given Ray the right answer about letting children choose their own path. Chance wished his father could grasp the principle that other people, including one's offspring, were not objects to be exploited.

He only hoped Lois would stop hero-worshiping his father before she got sucked irrevocably into his way of thinking. Still, she was an adult and had to make her own decisions.

A tap at the door of his suite drew Chance from his reverie. He swallowed hard at the sight of Tara standing there in a one-piece russet swimsuit with a towel tossed over her shoulder.

He didn't need the sight of her to remind him of her inviting shape. His senses were imprinted with every detail of those firm small breasts, the slender waist and the long legs with their slightly angular knees.

What he'd forgotten was the golden sheen of her skin by lamplight and the vulnerability in her face. Then there was the dangerous way his thoughts kept thrusting into her mind. Already he could feel the heat that flared inside her at his nearness.

Drawing on his self-taught discipline, Chance visualized a glass wall forming between the two of them. As he did so, the air abruptly chilled.

Tara took a dazed step backward, her expression as
startled as if a door had slammed in her face. She didn't seem angry about the sudden withdrawal, however. In fact, she looked embarrassed. “I keep getting the feeling I'm dozing off while I'm wide awake. I'll have to make a point of catching up on my sleep.”

“A hot soak ought to relax you.” Taking her arm, Chance guided her through the French doors onto the shrubbery-enclosed patio.

Touching her made his pulse race, and again he got the sense of reaching into her mind and seeing through her eyes. Steam beckoned from the large whirlpool bath, and the tiles underfoot reminded her of the hotel where she and her girlfriend had stayed on a weekend trip to Mexico.

Resolutely, he re-formed the glass wall. Tara shivered. “I didn't notice how breezy it was.”

“The cold makes the pool feel even better,” he advised, and switched on the jets.

Dropping her towel, Tara lowered herself into the water and slid down until it reached her chin. Wisps of hair floated around her like a halo.

Chance caught an image, a far memory, of Tara playing in a forest stream. Sunlight and leaf shadows dappled her bare breasts as she floated on her back, lazily gesturing him to join her.
Not Tara. Ardath.

He settled into the hot water, as far from her as the pool allowed. Having an honest chat was going to be difficult if he kept muddying it up with past lives. For once, Chance wished he were just an ordinary guy who could fall in love without a lot of complications.