The Stars of Mithra: Hidden Star

“Yep.” He attacked his two scoops of rocky road. Since she’d stated no preference, he’d gotten her strawberry. He considered it a girl flavor. “They have branches all over the country, but the flagship store’s here. Muffy met Ronald at a charity tennis tournament when she beaned him with a lob. Very romantic.”

“I see.” Or she was trying to. “And he agreed to let us use the equipment?”

“Muffy agreed. Ronald goes along with whatever Muffy wants.”

Bailey licked her dripping cone, watched the tourists—the families, the children—clamber up and down the steps. “I thought she was angry with you.”

“I talked her out of it. Well, I bribed her. Camilla also takes ballet. There’s a recital next month. So I’ll go watch Camilla twirl around in a tutu, which, believe me, is not a pretty sight.”

Bailey choked back a chuckle. “You’re so mean.”

“Hey, I’ve seen Camilla in a tutu, you haven’t. Take my word, I’m being generous.” He liked seeing her smile, just strolling along with him eating strawberry ice cream and smiling. “Then there’s Chip. That’s Muffy’s other mutant. He plays the piccolo.”

“I’m sure you’re making this up.”

“I couldn’t make it up, my imagination has limits. In a couple of weeks I have to sit front and center and listen to Chip and his piccolo at a band concert.” He shuddered. “I’m buying earplugs. Let’s sit down.”

They settled on the smooth steps beneath the wise and melancholy president. There was a faint breeze that helped stir the close summer air. But it could do little about the moist heat that bounced, hard as damp bricks, up from the sidewalks. Bailey could see waves of it shimmer, like desert mirages, in the air.

There was something oddly familiar about all of it, the crowds of people passing, pushing strollers, clicking cameras, the mix of voices and accents, the smells of sweat, humanity and exhaust, flowers blooming in their plots, vendors hawking their wares.

“I must have been here before,” she murmured. “But it’s just out of sync. Like someone else’s dream.”

“It’s going to come back to you.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Pieces already are. You know how to make coffee, use a computer, and you can organize an office.”

“Maybe I’m a secretary.”

He didn’t think so. The way she rattled off information on diamonds the evening before had given him a different idea. But he wanted to weigh it awhile before sharing it. “If you are, I’ll double your salary if you work for me.” Keeping it light, he rose and offered her a hand. “We’ve got some shopping to do.”

“We do?”

“You need reading glasses. Let’s hit the stores.”

It was another experience, the sprawling shopping center packed with people looking for bargains. The holiday sale was in full swing. Despite the heat, winter coats were displayed and discounted twenty percent, and fall fashions crowded out the picked over remains of summer wear.

Cade deposited her at a store that promised glasses within an hour and filled out the necessary forms himself while she browsed the walls of frames available.

There was a quick, warm glow that spread inside him when he listed her name as Bailey Parris and wrote his own address. It looked right to him, felt right. And when she was led into the back for the exam—free with the purchase of frames—he gave her a kiss on the cheek.

In less than two hours, she was back in his car, examining her pretty little wire-framed glasses, and the contents of a loaded shopping bag.

“How did you have time to buy all of this?” With a purely feminine flutter, she smoothed a hand over the smooth leather of a bone shoulder-strap envelope bag.

“It’s all a matter of stategy and planning, knowing what you want and not being distracted.”

Bailey peeked in a bag from a lingerie store and saw rich black silk. Gingerly she pulled the material out. There wasn’t a great deal of it, she mused.

“You’ve got to sleep in something,” Cade told her. “It was on sale. They were practically giving it away.”

She might not have known who she was, but she was pretty sure she knew sleepwear from seduce-me wear. She tucked the silk back in the bag. Digging deeper, she discovered a bag of crystals. “Oh, they’re lovely.”

“They had one of those nature stores. So I picked up some rocks.” He braked at a stop sign and shifted so that he could watch her. “Picked out a few that appealed to me. The smooth ones are… What do you call it?”

“Tumbling stones,” she murmured, stroking them gently with a fingertip. “Carnelian, citrine, sodalite, jasper.” Flushed with pleasure, she unwrapped tissue. “Tourmaline, watermelon tourmaline—see the pinks and the greens?—and this is a lovely column of fluorite. It’s one of my favorites. I…” She trailed off, pressed a hand to her temple.

He reached in himself, took out a stone at random. “What’s this?”

“Alexandrite. It’s a chrysoberyl, a transparent stone. Its color changes with the light. See it’s blue-green now, in daylight, but in incandescent light it would be mauve or violet.” She swallowed hard because the knowledge was there, just there in her mind. “It’s a multipurpose stone, but scarce and expensive. It was named for Czar Alexander I.”

“Okay, relax, take a deep breath.” He made the turn, headed down the tree-lined street. “You know your stones, Bailey.”

“Apparently I do.”

“And they give you a lot of pleasure.” Her face had lit up, simply glowed, when she studied his choices.

“It scares me. The more the information crowded inside my head, the more it scared me.”

He pulled into his driveway, turned to her. “Are you up to doing the rest of this today?”

She could say no, she realized. He would take her inside then, inside his house, where she’d be safe. She could go up to the pretty bedroom, close herself in. She wouldn’t have to face anything but her own cowardice.

“I want to be. I will be,” she added, and let out a long breath. “I have to be.”

“Okay.” Reaching over, he gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Just sit here. I’ll get the diamond.”

Westlake Jewelers was housed in a magnificent old building with granite columns and long windows draped in satin. It was not the place for bargains. The only sign was a discreet and elegant brass plate beside the arched front entrance.

Cade drove around the back.

“They’re getting ready to close for the day,” he explained. “If I know Muffy, she’ll have Ronald here waiting. He may not be too thrilled with me, so… Yeah, there’s his car.” Cade shot his own into a space beside a sedate gray Mercedes sedan. “You just play along with me, all right?”

“Play along?” She wrinkled her brow as he dumped stones into her new handbag. “What do you mean?”

“I had to spin a little story to talk her into this.” Reaching over, he opened Bailey’s door. “Just go along.”

She got out, walked with him to the rear entrance. “It might help if I knew what I was going along with.”

“Don’t worry.” He rang the buzzer. “I’ll handle it.”

She shifted her now heavy bag on her shoulder.

“If you’ve lied to your family, I think I ought to—” She broke off when the heavy steel door opened.

“Cade.” Ronald Westlake nodded curtly. Cade had been right, Bailey thought instantly. This was not a happy man. He was average height, trim and well presented, in a dark blue suit with a muted striped tie so ruthlessly knotted she wondered how he could draw breath. His face was tanned, his carefully styled hair dark and discreetly threaded with glinting gray.

Dignity emanated from him like light.

“Ronald, good to see you,” Cade said cheerily, and as if Ronald’s greeting had been filled with warmth, he pumped his hand enthusiastically. “How’s the golf game? Muffy tells me you’ve been shaving that handicap.”