Now You See Her Linda Howard(43)

"I'll check into it," Richard repeated. He turned toward the door. She followed him as he went into the living room and picked up his shirt. She watched him shrug into it, feeling a pang of regret as he covered that broad chest. Without a hint of self-consciousness, he unfastened his pants and began tucking in the shirt. A wave of warmth washed over her. She actually felt flushed.

"I have an appointment I can't put off," he said as he rebuckled his belt. "Get a pen and paper; I'm going to give you my private number."



She didn't have to search for either one; she was an orderly creature, so both were right beside the phone. "Okay, shoot."

He recited the number. "Don't wait until you're so cold you can't function. Call me immediately. If you're right about it only happening when you've had an episode of sleepwalking, then you'll know as soon as you check the studio whether or not you need to call."

"There's no way to tell how often that will be. You can't take the time to come over here every time I get cold. "

"The hell I can't. It isn't just a chill; it's more serious than that and you know it. Look, for my peace of mind, call me every morning when you get up, okay?" He took her chin in his hand and bent down to kiss her. The kiss was light, his lips soft and barely moving on hers. Sweeney kept herself from clinging to him, but it was a struggle; the man was addictive. She wanted more of him, all of him.

He paused at the door. "Does the gallery have exclusive rights to sell your work, except for your portrait commissions?"

"Except for any directly commissioned work, yes."

He nodded. "I want that one with the running water. Take it to the gallery to be framed, and I'll arrange the purchase through another person so Candra won't sell it to someone else just to keep me from getting it."

And so Candra wouldn't know there was anything between them, she thought. She had been right to be reluctant to get involved with him; even though he and Candra had split, the situation was awkward, and finalizing the divorce probably wouldn't help a lot. In that moment she made the decision to dissolve the agreement between herself and Candra and begin the search for another gallery to represent her.

"I'll call you," he said, and hesitated for a moment, looking back at her. She had the impression he wanted to kiss her again. Evidently he thought better of it, though, and he stepped out into the hall. He had probably made the right decision, she thought wistfully, as she shut the door and locked it, but the right decision wasn't always the most pleasurable. They had already become far more involved than was right, but at least he'd had the self-control to keep from taking things any further. Until his divorce was final, she thought, they couldn't risk a repeat of today's situation, because the temptation was too great to resist many times.

Richard frowned as he left the building. Edward saw him come out of the door, and within seconds the car slid to a halt in front of him.

"Just a minute, Edward, let me make a call." He dialed directory assistance, and asked for the number of David Stokes, attorney, then asked to be connected.

A young male voice answered on the second ring. "Mr. Stokes isn't in," he said in answer to Richard's request. "There was a death in the family, and he'll be out of the office for the rest of the week."



"This is about his father's death," Richard replied, taking the chance that Sweeney had been right about the vendor. Her story defied logic, but he wasn't inclined to dismiss it out of hand as nonsense.

Something was going on, something that was causing her to go into shock, or something resembling shock, and everything she had said could be verified either by investigation or observation.

"Oh, are you a cop?"

"I'm investigating the death," Richard replied easily.

"Everyone is shaken up by this. Have you found out anything?"

"I can't discuss that. Give me Mr. Stokes's home number."

Richard scribbled down the number. He saw Edward watching him in the rearview mirror and their eyes met. Edward was normally the most impassive of men, but he looked interested in this new development.

Richard dialed David Stokes's number. A child answered, and when Richard asked for Mr. Stokes, the little voice said, "Just a minute," then yelled, "Daddy!

"Hello."

"Mr. Stokes, my name is Richard Worth. I'm sorry to bother you at a time like this, but if you feel up to it, I'd like to ask you some questions about your father's death."

"His murder, you mean," said David Stokes.




Chapter 11


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Elijah Stokes had been murdered, the victim of a violent mugging. He had been attacked, dragged between two buildings, and beaten to death. He had died from severe head injuries, inflicted by a blunt object. A reluctant witness had finally told police she had seen a young man running from the alley on the afternoon in question.

Richard pondered on the details he had learned from the bitter, grief-stricken David Stokes. He didn't like any of them.

His daytime staff had long since gone home, and he was alone in the town house, his favorite time of the day. He usually worked at night, and in fact, he needed to study some reports that he should have read that morning, but he wasn't in the mood for profit margins and stock options.