Somewhere I'll Find You (23 page)

A fist thumping his chest caught his attention.

“You might want to explain what happened to
you!
You were the one acting like a man possessed.  As a matter of fact
,
you said . . .” She wanted to tell him about the fragmented images she’d had, and her suspicion that in some way Michael had assumed the identity of Erik Fletcher.

Right, O’Neal.  Then he’ll really be convinced you’re a lunatic.
Paige shook her head. 
“Like a complete stranger.”

Michael
scowled
. “I did?”  Frowning
,
he looked at the floor around him.  “I remember one hell of a dream – something having to do with old band music and gardenias.  Then I was standing here and you were passed out wearing this old dress.”

“It’s not a crime to play dress up,” she snapped, squirming in his arms.

“I didn’t say it was,” he replied, ignoring the growl that his tone elected from her.

Running shaky fingers through her hair, she gave an unsteady laugh.  “Okay, I’m sorry I snapped at you.  I’m just still a bit shaken.”  Abruptly, she lurched forward.  “Where are the pearls?”

“What pearls?”

“The ones I was wearing . . .” She swallowed, and then swallowed again.  “Before I came back.”

Frowning at the mess that made up the floor, Michael wasn’t certain how much longer the old boards would hold up.  “Maybe the clasp broke.  They won’t be easy to find, that’s for certain.  Some of these boards have broken clear through.”

“I know
,
that’s how I found the chest with all these things. 
Someone must have just replaced the flooring over the original.”

He gave out a low whistle as he continued his perusal.  “Good work.”

She wasn’t so certain.  Something about the pearls and the dress suddenly made her very uneasy.  “They have to be somewhere.  They are just too valuable to left just lying around.”

“You’re staying put,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument.  “You must have fainted and knocked over the mirror.  Probably with your head,” he added as he gave her a hard look.

As if he has room to talk!  He was the one who wanted to go wandering around in the middle of the night with a bleeding head wound! 
But
Paige
stayed silent, looking slowly around
, noticing the frame that lay on the floor, their reflections caught in a thousand shattered shreds of glass.
It doesn’t matter
,
she
told herself sternly, quashing the urge to shiver at the outdated notion that broken mirrors caused bad luck.  It was just a mirror.  “Can you see the necklace?”

“It could be anywhere,” he growled, “and in more than one piece.  Could you have put it back into that chest and forgot?  If you’re certain that you can . . .”

“Breathe without your assistance?  I think that I might just be able to manage that.”  She took a deep breath when she noticed the stunned look in his eyes.  “Look, I’m sorry.  I suppose I should thank you – I could have been badly hurt up here.  It’s just . . .” She paused, suddenly feeling ridiculous and nervous in that elaborate dress. 
Just what?  That I feel like I’ve been tossed into the middle of a
nightmare
?
  That this dress somehow feels
familiar
?
  Or that I keep trying to ignore you and I’m not succeeding?
Looking away, she sighed.  “Forget it.”

“No, let’s not forget it.”  Michael’s voice was cold and hard.  “I didn’t mean to upset you – which appears to be something I’ve done since we first met.  It’s not my intention, but everything I do seems to rub you the wrong way.”

“It’s not you . . . or not
just
you,” she muttered.  “My life suddenly seems to be falling apart, and you’re right smack in the middle of it.”  Looking around the attic, she slowly shook her head.  “Coming here was a mistake.”

Watching her face, Michael reached out.  “What happened up here?”

“Nothing.”

His face set into a grim line at her too-swift response.  “I find you passed out on the floor, wearing that damned dress
, and when you wake, you begin sobbing and screaming as if your heart was breaking. Now
you tell me that nothing happened?”

“That’s right,” she insisted, tilting her chin up at him.

“Great,” he replied grimly.  After a moment, he moved to the chest, digging inside.  His brow arched as held up a fine chemise with a white embroidered trim.  “Sur
e
that you don’t want to model this instead?”

“Forget that idea,” she growled, her unease growing with each moment.

Grinning he turned back to the trunk.  “Another pair of shoes – some kind of mask . .
. and
. . . damnation!

“What is it?”  She was almost afraid of his answer.

Frowning, Michael looked at the drop of blood on his finger.  “I found a pin – something bloody sharp
,
too.”  Carefully he lifted out a scrap of linen from the
trunk.  Attached to the fabric
was a diamond stickpin,
reflecting a cold fire that shot
into the attic shadows.

Paige’s breath caught.  “It’s beautiful.”

“Three carets of beautiful, at least.”  Running his finger slowly over the gold mounting, Michael watched the facets gleam, his face clouded with puzzlement.  Catching Paige’s expression, he shook his head.  “We’ve seen this before.”

Puzzled
,
she wondered if she wasn’t the only one still in a daze from having struck herself on the head.
  “How could you?  It’s been in that trunk for ages.”

“It’s still familiar,” Michael insisted, his eyes narrowing, and then he snapped his fingers.  “It’s the painting . . . . The painting of Erik.”

“The one in my living room?”

Michael nodded firmly, his eyes fixed on the pin, searching in his mind for something in his memory.  “He’s wearing this in his cravat . . . I’m sure of it.”

Stunned, Paige could only stare, her words carried away on the rising wind coming through her makeshift patch.  The flapping of the tarp she had hammered to the wall vibrated with the increasing strength of the gale, two nails coming free with the force of the wind.  Despite her best efforts, it seemed as if half of California insisted on flowing through that hole.

Staying where they were was becoming increasingly unhealthy, but for Paige, the idea of leaving while still wearing that beautiful gown was, at best, a ridiculous idea.  The thought fleetingly crossed her mind
simply to leave it on
. . . but how would Michael react if she were to sit by the fire in that gown?  Somehow, she had the feeling it was something that neither of them were prepared to face.  Trembling, she looked at him, and watched as his eyes narrowed into slits.

“Look,” he said, his voice irritatingly calm, “you’re shivering.  Why don’t we go down and we’ll talk?  I’ll just wait for you by the stairs while you change.”

Wrapping her arms around herself, she felt panic rise at the thought of being alone in that damp, windy attic.  “I don’t . . . I don’t want to be alone up here.”

He stopped, his shoulders stiff with frustration.  “You’re still not going to tell me what happened up here, are you?”

Ignoring him, she simply reached for her
discarded
clothes.

“We’re never going to get anything done this way,” he said
,
through gritted teeth.  His eyes flared as he looked around the attic that just moments before had so enraptured her.  “Damn it Angel, you’re going to have to trust me sometime.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she answered coldly, trying to keep her teeth from chattering.  “Now
,
if you’ll just turn your head please.”

“And what happens if I don’t please?”

Color filled Paige’s cheeks as she whispered a soft plea.  “Don’t . . . not now.”

He cursed bitterly.
“It wouldn’t do me any good anyway
,
would it?
  Not if you can’t look me in the face.  Not if you don’t trust me.”  Walking to the door, he stood with his back turned, his shoulders tense with anger.

Maybe I do trust him,
she thought as her fingers flew over buttons. 
Maybe it’s me that I don’t trust.

There was a sudden hiss when a corner of the plastic she had so p
ainstakingly pounded into place
ripped loose
and slapped her hard
.

Hearing her cry, Michael turned, leaping to her side.  Catching the flapping sheet, he pushed it away from her face.  “Are you a
l
l
right?”

“It frightened me, that’s all,” she muttered, holding her fingers to her cheek while blushing under his gaze.

“Hardly,” he growled. 
Won’t she trust me with anything?  Would it be so terrible to admit her cheek hurts? 
“You’re shaking like a leaf and you’ve got a nasty welt.”

She winced at the gentle brush of his fingers, glancing upwards as his skin touched hers.  For a moment, she was breathless with a sudden surge of emotion that all but washed her from her feet.

She wanted to hate him, because oh
,
God, she hated everything he stood for.  He was like all the rest of them, men with their easy fortunes and too much charm for any woman’s safety.  She had never had a problem with putting men like him in their places before, but with this man, she didn’t know where to start.  Or if she even wanted to expend the energy to try.

“Angel . . .” His fingers opened, easing against her cheek.  They trembled slightly, while something sharp and sweet passed between them.

Dear God, he’s going to kiss me.  He’s going to pull me to him and touch me as I’ve never been touched before.  If I don’t want it, I have to stop him before it’s too late.  If I don’t want . . .

But her words never came.  Their eyes held a universe of emotion that slammed between them while their bodies
were frozen in the ocean air that
gusted around them.

Michael
swallowed
his eyes hard. 
God help me, I’m going to kiss her.  How can I help it when she looks at me that way, with that crazy blend of innocence and passion?  With eyes that seem to go right through me
,
and make me feel as if I’ve known her all my life?

Even then, he fought it, telling himself that he was a fool and worse.  But she touched him in some deep corner of his heart, calling out to him in ways that went far beyond the physical.  He should touch her.