New York, his present, had served its purpose for him. Hed been ready for a change. Ready to come home. Then Flynn had made it so very easy.
It gave him the opportunity to come back, test the waters, and his feelings. Hed known, this time hed known, as soon as he saw the majestic run of the Appalachians, that he wanted them back.
This time—surprise—he was back to stay:
He wanted those hills. The riot of them in fall, the lush green of them in summer. He wanted to stand and see them frozen in white, so still and regal, or hazed with the tender touch of spring.
He wanted the Valley, with its tidy streets and tourists. The familiarity of faces that had known him since his youth, the smell of backyard barbecues and the snippets of local gossip.
He wanted his friends, the comfort and the joy of them. Pizza out of the box, a beer on the porch, old jokes that no one laughed at the same way a childhood friend did.
And he still wanted that damn house, Jordan realized with a slow, dawning smile. He wanted it now every bit as much as he had when he was a sixteen-year-old dreamer with whole worlds yet to be explored.
So, he would bide his time there—he was cagier than hed been at sixteen. And he would find out what Rowena andPitte planned to do with the place when they moved on.
To wherever they moved on.
So, maybe the house was both his past and his future.
He ran bits of Rowenas clue through his head. He was part of Danas past, and like it or not, he was part of her present. Very probably he would be part—one way or another—of her future.
So what did he, and the Peak, have to do with her quest for the key?
And wasnt it incredibly self-serving to assume that he had anything to do with it.
“Maybe,” he said quietly to himself. “But right at the moment, I dont see a damn thing wrong with that.”
With one last look at the house, he turned and walked back to his ear. He would go back to Flynns and spend some time thinking it through, working out the angles.
Then he would present them to Dana, whether she wanted to hear them or not.
* * *
BRADLEY Vane had some plans and plots of his own.Zoe was a puzzlement to him. Prickly and argumentative one minute, scrupulously polite the next. He would knock, and the door to her would crack open. He could detect glimmers of humor and sweetness, then the door would slam shut in his face with a blast of cold air.
Hed never had a woman take an aversion to him on sight. It was especially galling that the first one who did happened to be the one he was so outrageously attracted to.
He hadnt been able to get her face out of his mind for three years, since hed first seen After the Spell , the painting hed bought—the second one Rowena had painted of the Daughters of Glass .
Zoesface on the goddess who slept, three thousand years, in a coffin of glass.
However ridiculous it was, Brad had fallen in love at first sight with the woman in the portrait.
The woman in reality was a much tougher nut.
But Vanes were known for their tenacity. And their determination to win. If shed come into the store that afternoon, he could and would have rearranged his schedule and taken her through. It wouldve given him the opportunity to spend some time with her, while keeping it all practical and friendly.
Of course, youd think that when her car broke down and he happened by and offered her a lift, that interlude would have been practical and friendly.
Instead shed gotten her back up because he pointed out the flaws in her plan to try to fix the car while wearing a dinner dress, and he, understandably, had refused to mess with the engine himself.
Hed offered to call a mechanic for her, hadnt he? Brad thought, getting riled up again at the memory. Hed stood there debating with her for ten minutes, thus ensuring that whatever she did they would both be late to the Peak.
And when she grudgingly accepted the ride finally, she spent every minute of it in an ice-cold funk.
He was absolutely crazy about her.
“Sick,” he muttered as he turned the corner to her street. “Youre a sick man, Vane.”
Her little house sat tidily back from the road on a neat stamp of lawn. Shed planted fall flowers along the sunny left side. The house itself was a cheerful yellow with bright white trim. A boys red bike lay on its side in the front yard, reminding him that she had a son hed yet to catch sight of.
Brad pulled his new Mercedes behind her decade-old hatchback.
He walked back to the cargo area and hauled out the gift he hoped would turn the tide in his favor.
He carted it to the front door, then caught himself running a nervous hand through his hair.
Women never made him nervous.
Annoyed with himself, he knocked briskly.
It was the boy who opened it, and for the second time in his life, Brad found himself dazzled by a face. He looked like his mother—dark hair, tawny eyes, pretty, pointed features. The dark hair was mussed, the eyes cool with suspicion, but neither detracted a whit from the exotic good looks.
Brad had enough young cousins, assorted nieces and nephews, to be able to peg the kid at around eight or nine. Give him another ten years, Brad thought, and this one would have to beat the coeds off with a stick. “Simon, right?” Brad offered an Im-harmless-you-can-trust-me grin. “Im Brad Vane, a friend of your moms.” Sort of. “She around?”
“Yeah, shes around.” Though the boy gave Brad a very quick up-and-down glance, Brad had the certain sensation hed been studied carefully and thoroughly, and the jury was still out. “Yougotta wait out there, cause Im not allowed to let anybody in if I dont know who they are.”
“No problem.”
The door shut in his face. Like mother, like son, Brad thought, then heard the boy shout.
“Mom! Theres this guy at the door. He looks like a lawyer or something.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Brad mumbled and cast his eyes to heaven.
Moments later the door opened again.Zoes expression changed from puzzlement to surprise to mild irritation in three distinct stages.
“Oh. Its you. Um… is there something I can do for you?”
You could let me nibble my way up your neck to the back of your ear for a start, Brad thought, but kept his easy smile in place. “Dana was in the store this afternoon, picking up some supplies.”
“Yes. I know.” She tucked a dishcloth in the waistband of her jeans, let the tail hang down her hip. “Did she forget something?”
“Not exactly. I just thought you might be able to use this.” He lifted the gift hed leaned against the side of the house, then had the pleasure of seeing her blink in surprise an instant before she laughed.
Really laughed. He loved the sound of it, the way it danced over her face, into her eyes.
“You brought me a stepladder?”
“An essential tool for any home or business improvement project.”
“Yes, it is. I have one.” Obviously realizing how ungracious that sounded, she flushed and hurried on. “But its… old. And we can certainly use another. It was really thoughtful of you.”
“We ofHomeMakers appreciate your business. Where would you like me to put this?”
“Oh, well.” She glanced behind her, then seemed to sigh. “Why dont you just bring it in here? Ill figure that out later.” She stepped back, bumped into the boy who was hovering at her back. “Simon, this is Mr. Vane. Hes an old friend of Flynns.”
“He said he was a friend of yours.”
“Working on that.” Brad carried the stepladder into the house. “Hi, Simon. Hows it going?”
“Its going okay. How come youre wearing a suit if youre carrying ladders around?”