What the Librarian Did (14 page)

Cloaking her disappointment, their mother said cheerfully, “Well, I’ll just have to make the most of you now, then.”

“On that note,” said Rachel, “let Mark and I give you guys some time alone.” The two of them got to their feet.

“You don’t have to,” Katherine protested.

“That would be nice,” said Zander.

“Ignore him,” ordered Devin, but Rachel shook her head. Stepping closer, she murmured, “We want to buy your mom a present, anyway. The village is within walking distance, isn’t it?” He nodded. “C’mon, Mark.”

As soon as they’d disappeared through the sliding doors, Zander turned back to Katherine. “How did you know I was here?”

She laughed. “Jungle drums. I know you’ve rented every Mercedes on the island, used helicopters to get here and have commandeered the island’s best chef for a private party tonight.”

“Ah, but do you know the party’s for you?”

Their mother melted. “Oh, darling, you shouldn’t have gone to all that trouble.”

“You’re worth it.” He dropped a kiss on her head. “Invite whoever you like.”

Devin stifled a snort. Yep, lifting his little finger must have been hard. If the prodigal son had come back repentant, fine, but his brother was serving his own agenda, not
Mom’s. And that was saving his ass from being sued. Besides, knowing Zander, the party would be full of music execs, a local TV news crew, a couple women’s mags and a whole lot of eye candy.

With his arm around their mother, Zander looked up and obviously read Devin’s thoughts, because he smiled. “Isn’t this nice, the whole family together again? Come join the hug, little brother.”

Disgusted, Devin shook his head. Zander was using their mom to try to guilt him into backing off.

“Yes, Dev.” Katherine freed an arm and held it out. “Get in here.” Looking at her radiant face, he couldn’t refuse. With her frail body between them and her arms tight around their waists, Devin glared at his brother.

Zander smiled. “Family should always come first, don’t you think? Which brings me to the other reason I’m here.”

He paused for a dramatic effect. “I want you to rejoin Rage.”

“W
HAT DO YOU MEAN
, you can’t tell me?” Mark’s spirits deflated like a three-day-old balloon. He looked at his reflection in the mirrored wardrobe of the guest bedroom, where he’d been checking himself out when Trixie rang.

Since he hadn’t brought party clothes, Devin had lent him a hot shirt, black with silver stitching. The material was so soft against his skin it had to be expensive. Tight on Devin, it hung loose on Mark, but he wasn’t into fitted shirts anyway, at least not until his body filled out.

“It’s…complicated,” said Trixie.

“What’s complicated about it? If there’s more than one woman who qualifies, I’ll ask them all. I won’t squeal where I got the information from, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I think I should make a few of my own inquiries first, okay?”

Was that uncertainty? Mark’s fingers tightened on the cell phone. “You know one of them, don’t you?”

Her voice was suddenly wary. “I didn’t say that…. I gotta go. Let’s leave this until Monday.”

His mind started to race. Most of the university staff used the library and Trixie was the kind of person who talked to everybody. “Tell me, please. This is important to me.”

“I…I can’t.”

“You
have to
—”

She hung up on him.

Immediately, Mark rang back, and got the message, “This cell phone is either switched off or outside the coverage area. Please try again later.”
Shit
. Tossing the phone onto the bed, he put his head in his hands.

There was a knock on the door, then Rachel popped her head in. “Ready to go to this…Mark, what’s wrong?”

He was so gutted, he nearly told her. But that would only put a downer on her evening, too. And enough people knew his secret. So he dropped his hands. “Nothing.”

She came into the room. “You’re pale. Are you sure you’re well enough to go? I’d be happy to stay behind and keep you company.”

Mark mustered a smile. “No, I want to. I mean how many times do you get to go to a party like this in your life, right?” Rachel was still scanning him anxiously so he made an effort. “You look nice.”

She was wearing a halter-necked sundress patterned in swirls of blue, orange and green. Rachel glowed from his compliment. She always acted as if his opinion mattered. It made him feel a little better.

“It’s a bit casual,” she replied, “but it’s all I’ve got.”

Mark had to smile. “Rachel, you always look dressed up.”

“To a teenager, maybe.” She held out her arm. “Shall we?”

Mark hooked his arm through hers, but his thoughts were already elsewhere. For Trixie to suddenly get this protective, it must be someone she liked. That substantially narrowed the field.

Surely if he thought hard enough, he could work this out.

“W
OW, YOUR OLD LADY HAS
a lot of friends,” the hippie driver said to Devin as the battered island taxi began its descent down the steep, unsealed private road.

From the back, where she sat with Mark, Rachel watched Devin’s jaw tighten as he surveyed the emerging spectacle, but he made no reply.

They were catching a cab to the party because he didn’t own a vehicle that seated more than two people. It was another reminder that the man was essentially a loner.

Zander’s “rental” was a monstrosity of neoclassical architecture that dominated a private beach. At eight-thirty, the sunset tinted the marble exterior a Miami pink, and the giant palms accentuated the tropical glamour.

But what made Rachel smooth the skirt of her sundress were not the few hundred people dotted around the tear-shaped swimming pool, waterfall and lush gardens, but the realization that this event was way bigger than an impromptu Waiheke party.

“I’m seriously underdressed,” she said faintly. Her gold strapped sandals had low heels and she hadn’t brought jewelry to the island.

Devin didn’t turn to look at her. “So am I. Don’t worry about it.”

The difference was that he made underdressed sexy.

He was wearing slashed jeans and a vermilion shirt open over a black tank. His black belt was studded with silver that picked up the toe cappers on his kick-ass black boots, and the chains around his neck. As usual, his hair was disheveled in the unstudied style that suited his strong, stubbled jaw and wide cheekbones.

He looked exactly what he was, a supremely confident
handsome male who didn’t give a damn what anybody thought. And right now that seemed to include her.

Devin had been distracted since Zander’s arrival, but after his mother and brother left, his mood had darkened to the point that he’d excused himself and disappeared into his study.

“Maybe he misses the life,” Mark had suggested as he and Rachel walked along the sandy beach below the house. “I mean, he only quit because he had to.”

She’d thought the undercurrents were more complex than that, but Devin had snapped her head off when she’d asked if something was bothering him. Though he’d immediately apologized, he continued to be remote.

“Oh, hell, pull over,” Devin said abruptly, and the cab driver, Tim, slammed on his brakes. They were still three hundred yards from the entrance.

“What’s up?” asked Mark.

“Press.” Arm on the seat back, Devin turned to Rachel. “It’s probably better if we’re not photographed together.”

“It’s okay, I have nothing to hide.” Since she was telling Mark the truth tomorrow it wouldn’t matter if his parents recognized her in pictures.

“Yeah, but I do.” Glancing at Tim, he lowered his voice. “There’s a chance I’m going to get newsworthy again soon, so it’s better if my private and public worlds are kept separate. I’ll walk from here and meet you both inside.”

Without waiting for an answer, he handed the driver some notes and got out of the taxi.

“It’s like he’s ashamed of us,” murmured Mark as Devin strode away from them. Camera lights flashed as the press recognized the figure strolling down the driveway.

“That’s ridiculous,” said Rachel, even though the same thought had struck her.

“I wonder what he meant by newsworthy,” her son speculated, ignoring her warning frown. Tim’s back was rigid with feigned indifference. “Maybe he’s thinking of rejoining the band? And that’s why Zander’s here—to get him back.”

“Man, I hope so.” Giving up all pretense of not listening, Tim swung around, his goatee bristling in his excitement. While they waited for Devin to clear the press, he and Mark had an animated discussion on how cool that would be. Rachel listened in growing dismay.

Of course, it made sense. Zander wasn’t the type to put his mother’s birthday high on the priority list, not after two years of neglect. He obviously had an ulterior motive. And Devin was acting so distant…. She watched his tall figure disappear inside.

He was probably embarrassed to tell her he was leaving, because just this afternoon he’d said he was in love with her. Except he’d only said, “I
think
I’m falling in love with you.” There was a big difference.

How lucky then that she hadn’t taken him seriously. She stared at her hands, white-knuckled in her lap. “It’s not too late to go home,” she said to Mark. Both he and Tim looked at her as though she was crazy, so Rachel steeled herself. “Okay then, let’s get this over with.” Would Zander and Devin make the announcement tonight?
Happy face
, she told herself,
practice your happy face
.

As the cab pulled up to the entrance, one of the photographers peered in at them. “Relax, it’s only a couple of locals,” he said.

“Bloody cheek,” muttered Tim. He made a great show of opening their doors and pulling at his dreads. “What
time do you want a pickup, m’lady?” he asked in a fair imitation of an English accent.

Rachel found a real smile. “Eleven would be perfect, thank you, Timothy.”

The photographer fell for it. “Over here, please.”

Ignoring him, she propelled Mark through an arched gate set in the hedge enclosing the pool and gardens. Among the Nikau palms, chefs supervised roasts of pork and lamb turning on spits. The scents mingled with the night-blooming jasmine and gardenias.

Out of sight of the press, Mark cracked up laughing. “They thought we were important.”

Around the pool, young waitresses in tight black skirts and low-cut white blouses glided through the crowd carrying silver platters of tropical cocktails. In keeping with Katherine’s era, a fifties-style band in shiny black suits and narrow ties, with pompadour hairstyles, played “All I Have to Do is Dream” over by the pool shed.

“We are important,” Rachel affirmed, but as she looked at all the exquisitely dressed guests she was reminded of a recurrent dream she’d had after Steve stood her up for the school ball. She learned later he’d confessed her pregnancy to his parents and all hell had broken loose. But that night she’d still been confident that he would stick by her. In the dream she’d stood naked and alone in the middle of the dance floor, dazed by mirrored balls and strobe lights, while her fellow students pointed and laughed.

Nervously, she touched her bare neck. “I wish I had some jewelry.”

“An easy fix.” Devin appeared beside her from out of nowhere and took off a couple of his silver chains, twining
one around her wrist, the other around her neck. The metal was still warm from his skin.

Rachel started to take them off. “I’d hate to lose them.”

He caught her hand to stop her. “Easy come, easy go.”

“Is that your philosophy on everything?” She couldn’t keep the tartness out of her voice.

But he was distracted, watching Zander, who was holding court with Katherine by the pool. “Sometimes you don’t have a choice,” he replied. Then he looked down at her and Mark, and his expression softened. “Sorry, guys, this wasn’t the weekend I’d planned. Listen, if Zander gives either of you any grief tonight—”

“We’ll throw him in the pool,” she promised. Privately, Rachel thought Zander wouldn’t even notice they were there. She, for one, intended to avoid him. Just as she intended to avoid Devin, at least until she recovered her equilibrium. He still held her hand; she tried to pull free but his grip tightened.

“I’m sorry for ditching you so abruptly earlier. As I said, I wasn’t expecting press. Zander swore this was a private party.”

Smiling, Rachel broke his hold. “Don’t give it another thought.” At thirty-four she might be no better at protecting her heart than she was at sixteen, but she’d become an expert at hiding her feelings.

“Zander’s signaling us over,” said Mark, waving an acknowledgment.

As they started weaving their way through the crowd, Rachel’s cell beeped from her clutch bag. “Hang on a second.” Pausing, she retrieved it and opened a text from Trixie.

Call me. It’s URGENT!!!

Mark caught sight of the message and scowled. “Can I phone her back?”

“Sure.” She handed her cell over. He dialed Trixie’s number and waited until she picked up. “Oh, so you’ll answer when Rachel calls but not me, is that fair?”

Rachel bit back a smile. How was Trixie tormenting him now?

“Does she know this person, too?…Fine, have it your way.” Snapping the cover closed, Mark handed the cell back to Rachel. “She says phone her when you’ve got some privacy.”

“You two have a falling-out?” Devin asked Mark.

The teenager shot Rachel a sideways glance. “I’ll tell you later. I need to go find a bathroom.” He loped out of sight.

“Seems everyone’s got secrets tonight,” she said lightly.

Accepting two nonalcoholic cocktails from a passing waitress, Devin didn’t even try to deny it.

They started making their way through the crush of people, but everyone wanted to talk to Devin, and—if they were female—to touch him. Within five yards he and Rachel were separated. Through the press of bodies, he held out a hand to her but she shook her head.

“Traitor,” he murmured, but let her go.

On the sidelines, she sipped her cocktail and watched him greet his admirers. Nearby, two of Zander’s entourage were discussing the upcoming tour. “I heard it direct from Zander,” said one. “Devin’s rejoining Rage.” For the first time in her life Rachel wished her drink had alcohol in it.

Across the crowd, Zander’s assistant tapped Devin’s shoulder and he bent his head to listen. They made a striking couple—Dimity in a silver minidress, impeccably made up with long highlighted hair and even longer tanned legs; Devin in profile, all cheekbones and dark menace. As the blonde leaned forward, she teetered on her stilettos
and he steadied her with a hand around her upper arm. Strands of her golden hair brushed his dragon tattoo.

And all the confidence Rachel had spent years rebuilding seeped away until she was sixteen again, awkward, weird and an outsider. She looked down at her 1970s sundress, bought for twenty-five dollars. Vintage was a way of being stylish on the cheap, a way of being individual without competing with other women. Now she simply felt shabby.

And in that moment, she hated Devin for making her forget their differences—the nerd and the cool guy. Hated him for making her feel special when he didn’t mean it.

Self-disgust quickly followed. For God’s sake, he’d been married and divorced twice. How long would his “love” have lasted, anyway? Five minutes. His entire lifestyle lent itself to easy emotions. And she was a fool for ever thinking otherwise.

What had he said? Easy come, easy go.

“Isn’t this fun!” Katherine called, waving for Rachel to join her circle of friends. To her relief, Zander had left his mother’s side, the crowd parting before his minders like the Red Sea before Moses. Rachel couldn’t like him; aside from his monumental conceit, there was something reptilian in Zander’s light eyes, as though he was calculating his next strike.

His mother, however, was charming. As she returned Katherine’s hug, Rachel was overwhelmed by a deep homesickness for something she’d never had. With an effort she released the older woman. Dressed as she was in a blush-pink chiffon dress with matching pearl earrings, it was obvious tonight where Katherine’s sons had got their looks.

“You’re radiant,” Rachel commented as she handed over the hastily bought present.