Carolina Heat (26 page)

All three pondered in silence for a minute. “What did you learn at the shipping store?” Mark asked Annabelle.

“Varina Howell gets around quite a bit for a corpse. It was enough to prove the same person is behind all of this, but not enough to lead us to whoever it is.” She dug her hands into the pockets of her shorts and shrugged her shoulders. “We still need to hit the Richmond History Center to cover our bases, but I doubt we’ll find anything. The trail here in Richmond exists, but isn’t leading us anywhere new.”

Mark nodded. “I agree. Time to circle the wagons and head home.”

“While you two finish running around, I’ll tinker a bit and see if there’s anything useful to be salvaged from the hard drive at the Internet café. Don’t hold your breath, though. While I’m there, I’ll do a little more digging of the genealogical variety. We know through process of elimination that there’s no direct connection between Nate Bellamy and Jefferson Davis, but I want to see if there are any skeletons in his closet, regardless.”

“Jonathan, the man’s running for public office. If there were skeletons to be found, every television station and newspaper in the state would’ve already paraded them out.”

He stuck his tongue firmly in his cheek. “Now Belle, you’re being insulting. Did you really just lump my hacking skills against some two-bit reporters? I thought you had more respect for me.”

“Fine. I apologize to you and your overly inflated ego. Go do whatever magic it is you do at the Internet café, and call us if you find anything. Then we’re heading back to Charleston. Let us know when you’re finished, and we’ll drop you at the airport on the way.”

“I’m coming with you.”

Annabelle simply shook her head. There were too many people in the mix at this point. No way was she going to let her little brother tag along into danger. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

“Belle, I’m not going to argue with you about this. You need whatever help you can get right now.”

“It’s too big a risk. You need to go back to New York.”

“No, he needs to come with us.” Mark held up his hand before Annabelle could start in on him. “Safety in numbers, darlin’. With Ashby, Jillian and now Jonathan, we become a force to reckon with, especially if there’s only one person behind all of this.”

Unconsciously Annabelle planted her feet wide in a fighting stance. Were they really ganging up on her? Who did they think was in charge? “Or, another way to look at it would be a line of sitting ducks, like in a shooting gallery. Innocent people who don’t have the background or the training to deal with the situation. I can’t take on that responsibility, and I can’t ask you to do this, Jonathan.”

“Trust me, I’d have to be the village idiot not to know how much you hate to ask for help. But you aren’t asking, are you?” He slid off the hood and mirrored her stance, hands on her waist. “Listen closely, because this is important for you to get through your thick head. You’re not responsible for me anymore. I stopped being your baby brother a long time ago. Let me do this.”

Didn’t he know he’d always be her baby brother? The thought of being responsible for putting him in danger nearly broke her out in a cold sweat. So many unknowns still to this puzzle, which made them impossible to guard against.

“Belle, I know exactly what you’re thinking. You want to know why? Because I’ve felt that way for years. Every time you go off on assignment, I worry.” His voice rose, impassioned. He moved his hands to her shoulders and clung tightly. “It doesn’t matter that you’re good at your job. Hell, it doesn’t matter that you’re
great
at your job. Bottom line is that you’ve been in danger more times than I can count, and I’m sure more times than you’ve bothered to tell me. So instead of sitting at home with a ball of fear burning in my gut, this time, this one damn time, you’re going to let me help.”

Annabelle looked at him, astounded. Jonathan had never articulated anything like this before. The impact of her career and lifestyle on her brother never occurred to her. Equally conflicting measures of guilt and sadness warred within her. She had no idea how to respond, how to make it better. This was obviously something they needed to come back to and clear the air when they weren’t under such pressure. For now, she just pulled him into a tight hug. They stood together for several minutes, not saying anything.

Finally Mark cleared his throat. “If you all have dispensed with the family dramatics for the day, can we grab some lunch? I’m hungrier than a three-legged possum.”

That easily, the tension was broken. All three piled into the car, squabbling good naturedly about the difference in hunger between three- and four-legged possums.

“Since it is the South, maybe I’ll have me a possum on a sandwich.” Jonathan used an exaggerated Southern drawl.

Annabelle reached around the seat to pinch his leg. “Stop making fun of the South. I already promised Mark that I would, so it’s only fair you do the same. Anyway, a sandwich is all we have time for. It’s a long drive back to Charleston. At least it shouldn’t take us long at the museum, if it turns out to be as much of a dead end as we suspect. We can be on the road by mid-afternoon.”

“And by on the road, I hope you mean I’ll be behind the wheel of this truly magnificent vehicle. I’ve always wanted to drive a convertible.”

Mark glanced in the rear view mirror at him. “Not in a million years, city dweller. Do you even have your license? Have you ever driven a car all by yourself?”

Jonathan barked out a laugh. “You caught me. It was worth a shot. And I’ve logged plenty of hours on Grand Theft Auto. I bet driving in real life isn’t much different.”

“That’s what I thought. Both of you sit back and enjoy the ride. We’ll have plenty to run us ragged tomorrow.” He snapped his fingers as he started the engine. “Not to mention, now I’m going to have to call Jilly and have her finagle a costume for you. What size do you wear in anything besides grunge T-shirts?”

“Costume? What are you talking about? I’m not one of those anime freaks. I don’t do costumes.”

Annabelle smiled, listening to the outrage in her brother’s voice grow as he and Mark discussed the Magnolia Ball.

“It was your idea to stay and help out, little brother. Now you have to deal with the consequences.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Do you think Mrs. Haley will mind that I gave Jonathan the key to my room?” Annabelle worried as she climbed out of the car.

“Annabelle, it’s almost midnight, and she’s not the spring chicken she thinks she is anymore. Why wake her up at this hour? Your room is paid for, and you won’t be using it tonight. It makes more sense to let him crash there and then go through the formalities of checking in tomorrow.”

“I don’t want her to think we’re abusing her hospitality.”

“Ashby’s mother has a soft spot for me. I think it’s because I was always better behaved than him. If it makes you feel better, I’ll take full responsibility.” Mark swung the bags out of the trunk and led her around to the front of his house.

“I’ll hold you to it.”

“Trust me, I can wrap her around my little finger.”

“Hmm—should I be worried? Do you have this effect on many women?”

“Plumb near every single one over the age of sixty. The little old dears adore me.” He turned and winked at her.

“Smart answer, Dr. Dering.” It was so much fun to banter with Mark. His sly wit was an excellent match for her own.

“I didn’t get a chance to give you the full tour when you were here before.” Mark dropped their bags by the front door. “The best place to start is right here on the porch. We’ve got the moon, the frogs croaking in the pond next door, and enough of a breeze to scent the air with magnolia.”

“All in all, the epitome of a perfect Carolina evening. Did you special order this for me?” Annabelle bumped her hip playfully against Mark’s.

“Well, now if I took credit for it, you’d expect me to be able to do it again. That’s quite a commitment for the beginning of a relationship. All I’ll say for now is we’d be fools not to sit and enjoy it awhile.” He stretched out an arm and drew her onto the old-fashioned swing.

Annabelle was no fool. She knew the merits of a good cuddle, and adjusted herself so her head was nestled in the crook of his shoulder. “Mmm, I could stay right here, like this, and be perfectly happy.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re right. Maybe this spot would be better.” Annabelle climbed onto his lap and straddled him, locking her arms behind his neck. All their body parts lined up just right to drive her wild. She wriggled a little bit closer.

Mark buried his face in the nape of her neck. “You smell like sun-warmed jasmine dipped in honey.”

“Wow, that’s a very specific compliment, not to mention surprisingly accurate. I think it’s what it says on the back of my perfume bottle. Where did you get such a sensitive nose?”

He nipped along the edge of her jaw as he answered. “I helped with a book on the history of perfume a few years ago.”

“I thought you did major historical research on big, important topics like wars and, oh, I don’t know, Egyptian tombs and such. Why would anybody need to hire an extra researcher to write about perfume?”

“I did say the
history
of perfume, didn’t I? Very historically significant, both culturally and even spiritually. Did you know in the Muslim religion wearing perfume is considered a religious duty?”

She laughed. “No, I can honestly say I didn’t know that.”

“The book was quite a hit. And I had a phenomenal time.”

“Really?” It was Annabelle’s turn to lean down and press a line of kisses along his neck. “What was so phenomenal about it?”

“Spent a summer in Grasse. You know, in Provence? Fields of lavender and the most amazing food this side of heaven. I was there for the annual
Fete du Jasmin
and during the parade everyone throws flowers at you. The whole town smelled like jasmine for two days straight. Long story short, for the rest of my life I’ll always be able to recognize jasmine. Now, if you’d been wearing a perfume with a top note of myrrh or hay, chances are I wouldn’t have identified it quite so quickly.”

She giggled and traced a finger down the vee of his open collar where curling black hair poked through. “Hay? You’re making that up. What woman wants to smell like hay?”

“Not just hay. When mixed with the right scents, hay can be a good, fresh base. And before you accuse me of exaggerating, I’ll walk you down the perfume aisle of any major department store and give you a lesson.” Mark ran his hands up and down her back, and she obliged him by arching into his touch.

Annabelle squirmed a little. Just enough to brush her pelvis against his. She was gratified to hear him suck in a harsh, quick breath. The man wasn’t going to be able to ramble on about perfume much longer, but she’d play along until he threw in the proverbial towel. “Do you remember everything you research?” she murmured softly against his ear.

“Bits and pieces. More if it’s a subject that speaks to me, but usually enough to be able to hold my own in any bar trivia contest. With the perfume book, in addition to the research, I helped with a bit of ghostwriting. Always helps it stick to the old brain cells.” He toyed with the end of her ponytail, and in a fluid move rolled so she lay beneath him on the swing. It rocked precariously, squeaking madly as it swung back and forth. Mark dropped a leg to the ground to steady them.

“You know what I like best about perfume? All the interesting places you women like to dab it.” With his teeth he popped three of her buttons through the holes.

“Yup.” He nuzzled gently at the crevice between her breasts. “This is the spot. Smells terrific, and you appreciate it more for having to work to get to it.”

He shot her a look full of steam and seduction from under his eyebrows. Quickly the balance shifted. Annabelle moved her hands restlessly across his back. The time for playing games was over; she needed his hands on her, and realized she’d all but forgotten to breathe.

He licked, very slowly, along the lacy edge of her bra. “Tastes wonderful, too. But I digress. I believe I’d begun to astound and amaze you with my knowledge of fragrance.” He rolled off her to sprawl cross-legged on the floor.

Annabelle lay motionless, and waited for her heartbeat to return to normal. The effect this man had on her was truly unbelievable. Her heart was thudding as though they’d run a marathon, and her skin tingled from the memory of his length pressed to hers. The way he made her feel, the way they shot from zero to sixty in the blink of an eye, it was crazy. Magical, sexy as hell and frustrating. It was obvious he was worked- up too, but somehow he could step back from all this heat between them? How did that happen? No, there was no way he wasn’t as hot and bothered as she was.

“I see you sitting there, calm and collected. But it’s nothing more than an act. You don’t have me fooled.”

“A meaningful relationship’s about more than sex. Don’t you want to hear my stories about France?” he asked, in a butter-won’t-melt-in-my-mouth tone.

“Who said I wanted a meaningful relationship? The prospect of a few days of hot, dirty sex looks pretty good to me.” Her gaze dropped. She reached down and grabbed at the impressive bulge in his pants. “And next time you try your holier-than-thou routine, remember it’s a lot more believable when you don’t have an erection the size of the Empire State Building holding up your shorts.”