Liar's Moon (8 page)

She sped toward the door and started to open it; it slammed shut before it had opened more than an inch.

He’d closed it.

She spun, pressing her back against it. He was right there, his palm still flat against the door as he held it and probed deep into her eyes with his own, his ever-knowing gray gaze intent upon her.

“I thought you wanted the truth, Tracy.”

“I do! But I don’t see where you’re going to get it for me. I might as well be on my own. I was before—and we came to the same conclusions.”

He shook his head. “We take it together from here on out, Tracy.”

“Why?” she fumed. She hadn’t the strength to push him aside. “Leif, my God, you’re using me!”

“Maybe that’s fate. You used me.”

She didn’t finish—the door was suddenly pushed open from outside. Leif frowned and moved back—just in time for Tracy to come catapulting into his arms from the pressure outside. Instinctively she threw her arms around him to keep from toppling to the floor. Instinctively, he steadied her, his arms around her waist.

“What the hell—” Leif began, cutting himself off when he saw that it was Jamie. But right behind Jamie was the group of photographers that had sent him rushing to his dressing room for a safe haven.

Five of them, at least, were crowding in the doorway, and Leif had his hands at Tracy’s waist, Tracy’s fingers curled around his nape.

Flashbulbs started going off, blinding the three of them. “Hey, wait a minute!” Leif snapped. Then he caught sight of Tracy’s startled and furious eyes and he began to laugh, setting her from him and walking to the door.

“Excuse us, will you, guys? You got your pictures.”

“That’s her, huh, Leif, isn’t it?” One of the men called out. “Jesse’s girl! How long has—”

“Tracy Kuger, George. And—none of your business. Good night!”

He closed the door firmly, grinning in a rather pleased fashion.

Tracy stared at him furiously. “You just made that man think that—that—”

“That something was going on. Yes, precisely.”

Tracy swore at him in no uncertain terms. Jamie uncomfortably shuffled his feet.

Leif ignored them both, stating it was time for them to head back to the hotel.

CHAPTER FIVE

L
eif’s late-night “private” dinner turned out to be quite a fiasco to Tracy’s way of seeing things—there was nothing private about it. Jamie had invited six dates and the guys in his band had invited another twenty, so it seemed. The dates had invited friends, and so on. With all these people, the press managed to get in, and it seemed that there were a hundred people in a space that had been planned for twenty. As quickly as she could, she escaped to the elevator and up to her own suite.

She found that Liz was already there, opening a bag of Oreos for Blake, to be served with a pint carton of milk.

“Tracy, I hope you don’t mind. That just seemed like too much to bring Blake into, so I hedged everything and came on up!” Liz apologized.

Tracy shook her head, sitting down on the sofa to doff her boots and smiling.

“I don’t blame you. It’s awful down there!”

“Did you see the bald girl with the sequins glued to her scalp?” Liz asked.

Tracy started laughing. “Yes, I did. I’m afraid that she’s one of my brother’s dates.”

“Oh.”

“Tracy, would you like an Oreo?” Blake offered.

Tracy smiled at the little boy. “No, Blake, but thanks
for the offer.” He gave her an engaging grin, and she felt as if her heart toppled a bit. Those wonderful eyes! If his father were ever to
look at her that way again…

“Okay, Blake, I think it’s way, way past bedtime for you!” Liz announced.

“But I was going to sleep with Daddy—”

“Daddy won’t be up for a while. You can come in with me, okay?”

Blake didn’t refute Liz; he simply ignored her. He came over and sat down next to Tracy. “You and Jamie don’t look too much alike. He’s so tall. And he has yellow hair. Yours is dark.”

“Well,” Tracy said, “brothers and sisters don’t necessarily look alike. Jamie has our dad’s hair—I think I have my mother’s.”

“But you both have blue eyes,” Blake noted wisely. “I mean, really blue eyes. You have pretty eyes, Tracy.”

“Thank you, Blake, so do you. Just like your dad’s.”

“What?” Liz said suddenly.

Tracy looked up to discover that Liz was staring at her with a curious frown.

“His eyes,” Tracy said, “are just like Leif’s.”

“Oh?” Liz came over to stare down at Blake, which Tracy found rather peculiar. Surely Liz knew what her nephew’s eyes looked like!

Blake was already turning to another subject. “Aunt Liz, I’m not sleepy. Can’t I wait till Dad comes up?”

“No.”

“But—”

“Hey,” Tracy interrupted, “I’ve got an idea.” She glanced at Liz for approval. “I’ve got some bubble stuff in the bathroom. Want to take a warm bath? Maybe that will make you sleepy.”

“Oh, neat! Can I?” Blake asked his aunt.

Liz gave up with a shrug. “If Tracy is willing—”

“Tracy is very willing,” Tracy assured her. She stood on her stocking feet and reached for Blake’s hand. With a little sigh, Liz sank down on the sofa. Tracy led Blake off to her bedroom and they walked through it to the bath. She sat at the edge of the tub and ran the water hard, creating a burst of bubbles for Blake to play in.

At six, it seemed that Blake had no inhibitions. With a little cry of delight, he stripped away his sneakers and jeans, T-shirt, and He-Man underwear. Tracy lowered her head with a nostalgic
little smile as she watched him
—he was so perfect! Such a little body, a bit on the skinny side. But perfect. Long, long legs, squared shoulders, a sturdy little chest.

He slid into the water laughing as bubbles floated above him.

“Do you have any toys?” he asked Tracy.

“Bath toys, hmm. Let me ask Liz.”

She came out to Liz. Liz guiltily jumped to her feet and provided Tracy not only with a little sack of plastic toys, but with Blake’s toothbrush and a Masters of the Universe set of pajamas.

“Tracy!” Liz called, when she was just set to return to the bathtub with her booty. “Mind if I order up a drink?”

“Not at all.”

“Want something?”

“Sure. Kahlua and cream.”

Tracy returned to Blake. They played sea monsters with his toys, and she began to worry that her idea hadn’t been so terribly brilliant—Blake seemed more wide-eyed awake than ever.

But though he stayed that way while she dried and dressed him and told him to brush his teeth, he suddenly left the bathroom while she was still hanging towels.

She came out to find him curled up on her bed and sound asleep. Smiling, she adjusted his weight to pull down the covers and tuck him in. Then she went back out to join Liz in the salon.

Their drinks had arrived. Liz had her bare feet up on the coffee table and was sipping her drink. She arched a brow to Tracy and asked, “Did he conk out?”

“Yes. He’s sound asleep.”

Liz nodded. “I expected it. Kids are so funny! They go a hundred miles an hour and you think you’ll never make it—then
wham,
they’re out like lights.”

Tracy sat down and picked up her drink, smiling as she sipped it. “He’s a wonderful little boy. Very unaffected.”

Liz smiled. “He is a nice kid. I envy Leif.”

“You don’t have any children?”

Liz shook her head, smiling ruefully. “No, and it seems unlikely now that I ever will. The old biological time clock, you know. I’ll be forty next year.”

Tracy smiled encouragingly to her. “Well, I’d say you’ve still got a little time. I’ve another half brother who is only two, and my mother is forty-three.”

“Yes, but she’d already had you. Besides”—Liz laughed—“I’m not even seeing anyone seriously at the moment!” She shook her head in weary wonderment. “It’s really not terribly fair, you know! I admit, I was a lot like the guys way back when they got started. I can still remember it. Leif and I were just kids when Dad went to London to oversee the construction of the new hotel. The next thing I knew, Leif, Tiger, Sam, and Jesse had gotten together. Everyone thought they were ‘cute’, that it was a phase. Some phase! They lasted twenty-five years! I was just on the fringes, but being there, I wasn’t about to settle down. And now—well—I get to be a wonderful Aunt Liz to Blake, but probably never ‘mommy’ to anyone!”

“I wouldn’t give up yet,” Tracy replied cheerfully, for lack of anything else to say. She smiled. “Blake’s resemblance to Leif is remarkable.”

“That’s impossible—” Liz began, but cut herself off quickly.

“Why?”

“What? Oh, why? Well, I—uh—-just don’t see the resemblance, I guess,” Liz murmured. She stood and walked around the sofa, going to the balcony, walking back and yawning. She smiled at Tracy again. “I really hope you don’t mind being put out like this! How strange, though—after all that time that Leif spent looking for you, you pop up out of nowhere!”

Tracy shrugged, but asked Liz, “Why was Leif looking for me?”

“He was concerned after Jesse’s death. For you and Jamie. I don’t really know quite why he seemed so frantic —maybe it was just that he and Jesse had been so close for so many years. It unhinged him for a while, I think. Well, I don’t know, who wouldn’t be? He lost Celia one year, and Jesse the next. Of course, he’d always known about Celia.”

Tracy tensed at Liz’s words, her brows knitting across her forehead. “I’m sorry, Liz. I’m lost. What do you mean about Leif’s always knowing about Celia?”

“Why, her heart condition, of course. Oh, they did everything, but she wasn’t eligible for a transplant— something about the nature of her heart’s weakness. But he knew how ill she was; they both knew when he married her.” Liz sighed. “I miss her dearly—she was a lovely woman. So good for Leif! They met right after he came out of the service, and she soothed him through a
lot of nightmares. I don’t know if you remember it or not—so much that is pure trash has been written up about these guys—but she just walked out on him one day. No one understood it. Anyway, she’d found out about her condition, and she’d left him because she’d loved him so much. She came back—to explain. And that was when Leif insisted they marry anyway. Oh, well, that’s all in the past now. And I’m awfully glad that you’re here and that you’re coming to Connecticut. I’ve always known about you—and Jesse really did adore you, you know. Well, I guess I’ll go pick up my nephew and remove him from your bed!”

“No, no, Liz, leave him! That’s a king-sized bed—we’ll be fine in there.”

“Oh, no, that isn’t fair—”

“I don’t mind at all. Leave him.”

“Well, then, thanks, Tracy. Then I’ll be turning in—I feel like I’ve been awake for a month! Good night.”

“Good night, Liz,” Tracy told her.

Liz disappeared into the suite’s second bedroom; Tracy finished sipping her drink, still puzzled by Liz’s insistence that Blake didn’t look like his father.

Then she remembered that Blake’s father had made a travesty of her life that night. She winced, wondering what the morning papers would say. Then she shrugged, clicked her glass down on the table, and stood, stretching. She wandered over to the balcony and stared out at the night, still horribly wound up by the events of the night.

She shivered suddenly, feeling queasy inside. Celia Johnston had been sick all along. Celia had left Leif because she loved him so much—and Tracy had moved in because she’d been such a brat! Tracy winced, wishing
once again with all her heart that she could go back and undo the past. But she couldn’t.

She turned around and walked quickly back to her own room. Blake hadn’t moved; he was still curled in a little ball on her bed. She smiled, quietly collected her things, and went into the bathroom for a quick shower. She left the bathroom light on and just halfway closed the door over, thinking that Blake might awaken a little frightened and disoriented in the night.

Then she lay down on the other side of the bed, several feet away from him. It hurt to be there; the light reflected on his beautiful blond hair and she couldn’t help but think that her own son would have been his age and that, as Jesse’s grandson, he too might have had a wonderful cap of blond curls.

Then she was ashamed of herself, because Blake was Celia’s son, and Celia had not survived to see him grow.

And then she was thinking about Leif again—all these years later.

She felt as if time and events hadn’t really passed between them at all. Seeing him again—she might never have been away. But she had. Eons of changes had taken place. Still, it was just the same. Looking at him, feeling his touch. Knowing his scent, just as she recognized a sea breeze or jasmine, the musk of a forest, or the whisper of pine.

She had come to see Jamie—because she’d felt absolutely compelled to do so—but nothing was going as she had planned. And every hour seemed to drag her more and more deeply into something for which she was not at all prepared.

She wanted to know who had conspired to kill her father. With a total sense of grief and outrage, she had to know. Leif, it appeared, wanted the same thing. They had
been working in parallel positions, but he knew more than she did, and she was frightened, because she felt that she was rushing head-on into a nightmare.

And you’re agreeing to it all, like an idiot, she warned herself! Leif had told her mother that they were living together; she hadn’t disputed him. He’d pulled her onto a stage, and she had gone. He’d implied to half a dozen photographers that they were having an affair—and all that she had done was call him a few unkind names!

How was he getting away with it?

She sighed softly and tightly closed her eyes. She didn’t know. She wasn’t sure if she was so terribly desperate to k
now about her father or if…

Or if, after all these years, she wasn’t still compelled by a look that went right through her, a whisper that sent shivers up her spine, a voice that beckoned her, even in anger.

Fool! Maybe she was already trapped, and just didn’t realize it. She glanced at the clock by her bed. It was almost five. She groaned softly and closed her eyes, determined to sleep.

L
eif quickly discovered that neither Liz nor Tracy was in his and Jamie’s suite; he naturally assumed that Liz had Blake in Tracy’s suite.

Naturally, the door was locked, and Leif found himself staring down at the street again as he crawled from balcony to balcony once again wondering if they weren’t all crazy.

He was startled and experienced just a bit of panic when he opened the first bedroom door and saw that his sister was sound asleep—without Blake. He softly closed her door, then hurried on to the next, his heart beating a little erratically. In the next room, however, he did find
his son—sweetly sleeping with his thumb in his mouth and his little rump curled next to the woman beside him.

Tracy.

Leif moved quietly across the room, staring down at the two of them. Tracy had an arm around Blake’s tummy, and Blake was very contentedly clinging to it with one hand. There was something entirely innocent and entirely endearing about the two of them. Tracy’s silky dark hair feathering across the pillow, her encompassing flannel gown adding to the innocence. Blake, golden, small against her, so trusting.