A Lover's Dream (14 page)

“Who was Sera there to see?” Mick asked, easing her hands into the pockets of her silver-gray crop pants.

Quay shook his head. “Probably me. She didn't have class with Quest or any of our other cousins who went to the school. At least I don't think she did,” he added quietly. “Anyway, I don't know if she even knew the other guys who were there.” He looked over at Mick. “Far as I know, Sera Black was no one's ‘girl.' Everybody knew her, though. Pretty, smart, somethin' special.
Too
special to be played with or messed over. She wasn't easy and we Ramseys didn't like to work for our sweets back then, if you know what I mean. Still, Sera liked us for some reason. Liking me is probably what got her killed.”

Mick stepped closer. “Quay—”

“Didn't you know?” he cut in, standing to fix her with a lopsided grin that held little amusement. “I'm cursed.”

“Huh?”

“Ask Quest. Hell, ask anybody in my family. Every girl who ever
really
liked me, moved away, came up missing…or died.”

“Quay—”

“You think I'm exaggerating? I wish I could think like that,” he said, his onyx stare softening as he reminisced. “Q is the only one who knows this, but in high school there was a girl. I had to let her go because of this crap.”

Mick pressed her lips together and stepped closer to rub Quay's shoulder.

“I loved her, Mick. She was the only one. The
only
one, Mick,” he stressed, fixing her with a stern look. “That was in high school. Do you know how many women I've known since then? None of 'em ever came close to her.”

“So you invited Sera to the party?” Mick asked, hoping to shift the conversation away from the woman who still haunted Quay's dreams.

Quay cleared his throat. “Only the guys were
invited
,” he clarified, smoothing a hand across his close-cut waves. “There was an open invitation for
all
the girls—as many as we could fit into that room.”

“Would've been easy for her to go unnoticed then,” Mick pointed out.

Quay curved a fist into his palm. “I wouldn't know. Drunk as I was.”

“You don't remember anything?”

“Not a damn thing, besides what I just told you and after I woke up.”

“Where were you?”

“In the hotel room. In bed, butt-ass naked.” Quay shook his head, staring off as though he was
envisioning the scene. “Q was sitting at the foot of the bed, he was the only one there, he—he looked like he was in a daze or somethin'. I started to call to him, and then I heard the screaming. I never asked Q what he was doin' there just sittin' spaced out like that, and he never asked why I was naked in bed and passed out while a naked girl was splattered on the sidewalk below our room.”

Mick propped both hands on her hips. “What do you think happened?”

“I don't know!” he snapped, leaning back against the car. “But I've been too scared for too long, Mick. I need answers. The only reason this thing was covered up is that Q was involved. My parents never asked him to explain it. They just did what they had to do to make it go away. But I know, Q, it's
me
I'm concerned about.”

“You think you—”

Quay was shaking his head helplessly. “The Ramseys got a lot of secrets, Mick. Second generation out did the elders royally. Quest's always been there tryin' to protect us fools. I just pray none of this involves him.”

“So do I,” Mick whispered.

 

Catrina Ramsey had always taken pride in the fact that she never interfered with her sons' private affairs. By doing so, she'd received the greatest reward. They came to her with their worries willingly without her ever having to ask. She basked in knowing her boys held her opinion in such high regard.

But now, one of her boys was keeping her out of the loop. Catrina realized she was indeed like every other mother on earth: nosy and proud of it!

When the elevator doors opened to the penthouse office at Ramsey Group, Catrina walked in with the grace of a queen. “Quest? Quaysar?” she called.

Her voice was soft—so soft that people often wondered how the tall, molasses-toned beauty with such fragile looks had managed to rear two rambunctious boys at once. Catrina, however, was patient to a fault. That soft voice she possessed held an underlying firmness that warned her twins and every other man she knew to stand and take notice.

The elevator doors closed with a soft thud while Catrina stepped slowly through the dim office. She found comfort in the mellow atmosphere of her surroundings while natural motherly concern told her the boys should work in better lighting.

“Quaysar? Quest?” she tried again. Again she received silence as her answer. Sighing her disappointment, she debated on leaving.

“Price for admission is a kiss.”

Catrina whirled around, hearing the voice sound from the depths of the room. Propping both hands on her slender hips, she grinned. “That's a price I don't mind paying.” She laughed seeing Quest emerging from the shadows. They shared a hug and Catrina paid her price by smacking a kiss to her elder twin's jawbone.

Quest, like his brother, always enjoyed visits from Catrina. If it was true that laughter was the best medicine, Catrina Ramsey had a storage tank full of the stuff. That day, however, she wasn't there for comic relief as she quickly informed her son when he questioned her visit.

“I've noticed you've been down lately,” she said, slipping her hand through the crook of Quest's arm.

He laughed shortly and bowed his head. “How could you tell that when we've hardly seen each other over the last few weeks?”

“And I don't like being shut out,” Catrina argued, with a quick toss of her head that sent her beautiful clipped sliver-gray locks bouncing around her face.

“Quest ran a hand across the back of his neck. “Ma—”

“Who is she?”

The soft question caught Quest off guard and he hesitated.

Catrina noticed and her mahogany-brown eyes widened expectantly.

“Aren't you sick of hearing about our women problems?” Quest inquired, folding his arms across his navy short-sleeve crew-neck shirt.

Catrina's expression was serenity personified. “I never tire of it, because those problems are always so interesting,” she admitted, unable to contain her laughter then.

“So happy we can amuse you,” Quest told his mother, his expression sour.

“Oh, baby,” Catrina soothed, stepping closer to pat his chest, “I just know something's different. True, we haven't seen much of each other lately, but when we have, I've noticed something about you that concerns me.”

Quest looked down into his mother's upturned face. At first, his misty gray gaze revealed nothing, but slowly his resolve began to crumble. “It's very confusing, Ma,” he admitted with a shake of his head. “I've never met anyone like Mick.”

Catrina eased one hand into a side pocket in her cream flair-legged pants. “Mick? Sounds spunky,” she noted with a sly smile.

“Short for Michaela. Michaela Sellars,” he explained.

“What a beautiful name,” Catrina said, going to perch on the back of the sofa. “Sounds sort of familiar.”

“She was here to write that book we all said no to,” Quest told her, stretching out on the sofa. “She agreed not to write it, but she's spoken with Johnelle Black and the woman's convinced her to at least get on board with a new investigation into Sera's death.”

“I see.” Catrina sighed, a part of her praying this new
investigation would actually be a good thing. “So where do things stand between the two of you now?” she asked.

“Nowhere,” Quest said, frowning as he recalled the scene in his office two days ago. “She's left Seattle.”

“And you just let her go?” Catrina snapped suddenly, turning to glare at her son from her perch on the sofa.

Quest watched his mother with a look of total exasperation. “Ma, didn't you just hear what I told you? She's going to dig up all that old mess.”

“Maybe she will,” Catrina predicted with a shrug. “But I don't think that's why you didn't stop her from leaving.”

Something flickered in Quest's deep-set eyes and he looked away. “Ma, I admit it, I don't have a clue what to do. I sure as the devil don't know what to say to her.”

“How about I love you?”

“Love?”

“Don't you?”

The simple question sent realization rolling in like a tidal wave. Quest pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. “Ma, I'm in trouble,” he groaned.

“And I'm so happy for you.” Catrina laughed.

“I don't even know what to make of my own feelings, let alone hers,” he said, pushing himself up on the sofa. “She's so closed off sometimes. She gets this faraway look in her eyes and I know there's a lot of pain fueling that look.”

“Is it from a past love?” Catrina asked.

Quest shook his head slowly. “I can't say. How in the world did she get under my skin so fast? I don't really know a thing about her.”

Catrina leaned over to pat his cheek. “Maybe it's time you found out.”

Again, Quest's expression clouded. “The way things
happened before…it's probably too late. She's so damn tough. I don't know.”

“Are you afraid she won't be completely open with you?”

“I honestly don't know, Ma,” Quest said, so frustrated he bolted from the sofa. “I can't even begin to figure her out. I think if she answered every last question I'd lay out for her, I'd still be starved to know more.”

The firm admission only increased Catrina's delight. She couldn't believe he was so uneasy over this woman, when he'd known so many. Yes, she thought, her baby was definitely in love.

Savannah, Georgia

Michaela arrived in the city on a mission. She was there to meet with Jamilla Stokes and Harriet Forman, former classmates of the Ramseys and Sera Black. When Mick left the airport, however, she was stunned, having never visited the beautiful southern city. Evidence of its rich culture was everywhere. Mick spent her time strolling the quaint shops, enjoying a late lunch at a Creole café, and taking in the myriad of sights. She told herself not to get caught up in the beauty of another city, remembering what had just happened.

She knew, of course, that she was safe on that count. She'd never have to worry over losing her heart to another man. Quest Ramsey, she believed, had effectively spoiled her for any other and she hadn't even slept with him…yet.

Would there be a
yet
, she wondered? Not if her career had anything to say about it. She recalled the scene in his office where she'd prayed for him to stop her from leaving.

But then what? Would she
really
have been able to give up the investigation had he asked? Did she love him that much or was it plain old sexual frustration for a molasses god with the broadest shoulders and the most entrancing eyes, whose every manner practically shrieked the promise of erotic fulfillment?

“Mmm,” Mick grunted, with a quick shake of her head. She warned herself how easily thoughts of Quest could send her into a fit of sensual delight.

“Taxi!” she called to a passing car.

 

Jamilla Stokes was a middle school principal/guidance counselor/school nurse/janitor. She had her finger on the pulse of almost every aspect of Littleton Secondary School. When Mick arrived, she was certain the woman would have little or no time to speak with her. She was mistaken.

No sooner had the front desk receptionist announced Mick than Jamilla waltzed out into the main office to greet her. In the next moment, she was chastising two boys, putting a Band-Aid on the arm of another, and delegating a cleaning chore to one of the hall monitors.

“You're amazing.” Mick watched in astonishment as the woman performed the tasks with ease.

“And after hearing complaints all day, compliments are like music to my ears,” Jamilla said, hugging herself as she and Mick strolled to her office. “I should've followed my head and gone into politics, but I followed my heart instead and became a teacher,” she confided.

“Well, being a principal gives you the opportunity to dabble in both, doesn't it?” Mick probed.

“You know, I've never thought of it like that,” Jamilla said, a brighter gleam appearing in her dark brown eyes.

“I suppose this all correlates to your high school days on the student council.”

Jamilla threw her head back and laughed. “Lord, I haven't thought about that in years,” she said, folding her arms across the money-green blazer of her pantsuit.

Mick smoothed her black, pleated skirt beneath her as she took a seat in one of the chairs before Jamilla's desk. “If I've done my homework correctly, Sera Black was your treasurer.”

“She was a damn good one, too,” Jamilla swore, the expression on her honey-toned face a cross between sadness and pride. “She proved a lot of people wrong. Especially since no one thought she could handle the job.”

Mick recrossed her legs. “And why was that?”

Jamilla's gaze drifted off into the distance. “Sera was so sweet, not really timid, but she had a soft heart and she wore it right on her sleeve.”

“Mmm.” Mick nodded. “Those sorts of people are often liked, usually misunderstood, and quite frequently taken advantage of.”

Jamilla grinned. “You're so right. But Sera didn't think like that and she trusted everyone.”

“Including the Ramseys?”

“The Ramseys,” Jamilla repeated, rolling her eyes to the ceiling in a dreamy manner. “They were the finest. I wonder if they're still that gorgeous.”

“Trust me, they are,” Mick confirmed, averting her face so Jamilla couldn't see when she grimaced. “At least the twins and their cousin Taurus are. I haven't met the others,” she added.