Tightrope (Burning Cove #3)(57)

“I think he has survived by keeping a certain distance between himself and the women with whom he becomes intimate.”

“Because he feels he can’t trust anyone?”

“No,” Luther said. “Because his talent makes others, especially lovers, very, very nervous.”

“It would certainly be challenging to date a man who was forever assessing and analyzing every word that came out of your mouth.”

“As well as every action, every gesture, every expression,” Luther added. “Matthias’s intuition picks up on visual cues as well as words. Nobody who knows him well will risk playing poker with him.”

“All of which makes his obvious interest in Miss Vaughn even more curious.”

Luther studied the couple on the dance floor. “I get the impression that he feels he can trust her.”

“Trust always requires a leap of faith. How could someone with Matthias’s talent ever be persuaded to take that leap?”

“I’m no psychiatrist but I have a hunch that the fact that Matthias can, occasionally, bring himself to trust another person is his salvation. It is probably what has kept him sane.”

Raina watched the dancers glide and sway beneath the jeweled shower of lights cast by the mirror ball and thought about the man who sat so close beside her. She had known Luther Pell long enough to realize that he was every bit as dangerous and mysterious as the rumors that swirled around him claimed. He really did have mob connections. Now she had discovered that he had spent years in the shadowy world of espionage. Survival in both realms required a wide streak of ruthlessness and a talent for deception. Neither world inclined one toward taking the risk of trusting others.

But she had also viewed his paintings. Luther’s landscapes of the California coast were boiling cauldrons of violent energy—stormy and disturbing. She had a hunch that they were inspired at least in part by his experiences in the Great War but she suspected they were also fueled by the shadows deep inside him, shadows that she sensed were a basic part of his nature.

Luther Pell was not the kind of man a good girl took home to introduce to Mom and Dad. But she was not a good girl. She crossed a line when she left her previous job as a secretary in a prestigious New York law firm. As for her parents, they had been dead for years, victims of the terrible flu epidemic of 1918. She did not have to introduce Luther to anyone. She did not need to explain him to anyone. All she had to do was decide if she could take the risk of loving him.

She turned away from the view of the dance floor and found Luther watching her. The look in his eyes told her that he had guessed her thoughts and was waiting for her to come to her decision.

She hardly knew this man. And yet—

She reached up and touched the side of his jaw with her fingertips.

“I trust you,” she said.

He caught her hand. His fingers closed tightly around hers.

“I trust you,” he said.





Chapter 37


She was enjoying the dancing far more than she should, considering the circumstances, Amalie thought. There were, after all, matters of national security at stake. A valuable cipher machine had gone missing. A legendary gunrunner named Smith, or someone working for him, had recently tried to kill them with a grenade. Granted, the person who had hurled the small bomb into Pickwell’s workshop had been attempting to murder Matthias, but nevertheless, she would have been just as dead if the effort had been successful.

And now, to top things off, Raina Kirk had fanned the flames of the smoldering embers of a nightmare—the possibility that Marcus Harding had a partner who might have tracked her down.

She should definitely be focused on other, more important things, and yet here she was, thrilling to the feel of Matthias’s warm, strong hand on the skin of her lower back and the heat of his body so close to her own. She was flying again.

Memories of their time together in the big four-poster bed had been tormenting her ever since she had awakened that morning. He had made no mention of the interlude and she was afraid to bring up the subject in case it hadn’t meant as much to him as it had to her. She was fighting hard to resist the temptation to indulge in fantasies of a future with Matthias Jones. That way lay disaster or, at the very least, heartbreak. Better to stay focused on the here and now. But as fate would have it, she was dancing with the man of her dreams—right here and right now.

“Your celebrity guest just arrived with none other than the gossip columnist who labeled your inn the Psychic Curse Mansion,” Matthias said.

So much for the fantasy that he might have been entertaining warm thoughts about last night.

“How do you know Mr. Hyde is with Lorraine Pierce?” Amalie asked.

“Luther mentioned earlier that Pierce had reserved one of the star tables for Hyde and herself tonight.”

“There are star tables?”

“Luther holds the first row of booths around the dance floor for the celebrities. That way they can be sure they will be noticed. The stars don’t come to a place like the Paradise for privacy.”

“Who gets the other tables?”

“The people who hope to become celebrities and those who like to be seen with them. The goal here at the Paradise is to convince the customers that they are part of the fantasy.”

Amalie looked around, taking in the candlelit booths, the musicians in their snappy white jackets and bow ties, and the glittering crowd. The illusion of glamour shimmered in the atmosphere.