Silver Sparks Page 7

  “He’s Mystery Man in the stories,” Zoe summarized for her. “A cop from Oklahoma who helped Maggie out when Rafe got aggressive. He says Rafe killed his half sister.”

  Sophie blinked, trying to absorb the information. Her gaze darted back to Maggie. “You can’t let them make up more crap and pretend that it’s true,” she said, her eyes pleading. “You have to fight them, Maggie.”

  Maggie’s stomach twisted at the pain in Sophie’s eyes. This was exactly what she’d tried to avoid, but the story had raced ahead of her like wildfire through tinder. Faster than she’d thought possible. She scowled over the logistics of reporters tracking down her sister, finding out where she lived, who her academic advisor was, and who she was dating. It wasn’t even about Maggie, who was supposedly the star of the scandal. The information had to have been fed to the tabloids, and there was only one obvious source—the De Lucas.

  Hot fury roiled inside her until she felt the heat of it rising off her skin. She’d been ready to play it their way, but the De Lucas had crossed the line. She’d destroy Rafe for this.

  “That son of a bitch won’t get away with this,” she growled at her sisters. “I promise I’ll make him pay, Sophie. If he thinks I’m going to crawl in a corner and lick my wounds, he’s in for a surprise.”

  “Good,” Sophie said grimly.

  Zoe nodded. “We’re both with you, Maggie. What do you want to do, and how can we help?”

  “You don’t need to do anything. I’ll talk to those tabloid reporters. They’re digging around for stories, so I’ll give them one.”

  “About what?” Sophie asked. “Something positive, like your volunteer work at the Children’s Clinic?” She looked doubtful, as if realizing she might not be able to count on Maggie to get this done. Sophie had a lot to learn.

  “Hardly. They don’t want to know good stuff, they want a story with teeth. Scandal. Innuendo. Backstabbing. It’s what they thrive on, the stuff that sells papers.” She sat back, tapping her thumbnail on her teeth as she thought. “If I’m going to fight back, I’ll have to come up with something equally scandalous about Rafe.”

  Zoe raised her eyebrows. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know yet.” She flashed a wicked grin. “But you can bet it’ll be good. Are those reporters still hanging out at the Alpine Sky at night?”

  “As long as Rafe’s partying there, they are. But he doesn’t always stay at the Alpine Sky. The production company provides a suite for him, but I hear sometimes he stays at his family’s estate if he wants privacy.”

  From what she’d seen, that wouldn’t be very often. Rafe enjoyed the limelight too much to hide out at Mom and Dad’s, no matter how big their place was. And if he wanted to put a negative spin on her part in the incident in the bar, he’d have to be out where the press could find him. “Could you give me a call if the reporters show up later tonight?”

  Zoe nodded, but didn’t look enthusiastic. “Don’t you think you should talk to Cal about it first? He seemed to know a lot about Rafe.”

  “No.” Definitely not. Cal would advise caution and restraint, and nothing ever got done that way. “This isn’t about Cal, it’s about me, and our family’s reputation.”

  “It’s just that he seemed pretty smart.”

  “You mean he sounded like he wouldn’t do something reckless and impulsive.”

  Zoe nodded, unabashed. “That, too.”

  Maggie stood, a hint that she was done talking. “I’m not impulsive, I’m decisive. Cal would probably think about it for a week, then do the same thing.”

  Zoe shrugged as she and Sophie got up to leave. “I hope you’re right.”

  “I am. Call me later.”

  “I will.” Zoe followed Sophie to the door, then turned with a wry smile. “Something tells me you’re going to hear from Cal tomorrow.”

  She was probably right. The man was a big buttinski. Well, too bad. He’d just have to accept that she had her own score to settle with Rafael De Luca, and it had nothing to do with him.

  The Backstreet Bar on the edge of Barringer’s Pass was smaller and darker than The Aerie, and the clientele more rowdy, even on a Monday night. Rafe was obviously in the mood for rowdy. He was in the thick of the noisy group that sporadically burst into roars of approval as one more person downed a shot.

  Cal didn’t have to duck reporters at the bar—the reporters were with Rafe, cheering and drinking along with the others. He nursed his beer at the bar, keeping his alcohol consumption low. When Rafe moved on he needed to be able to follow, and only one of them had a chauffeured car waiting outside.

  Another cheer from Rafe’s group drowned out the background rock music. When it died into hysterical giggles, the old man next to Cal sent the group a disgusted glance. “Damn celebrities. They should stick to the resorts and let the real residents have a beer in peace.”

  Cal gave an amused grunt. “I’m with you.” Although, as long as he was trailing Rafe, he preferred these small local dives to the generic glitz of the resort nightclubs. Where else could you still find Bruce Springsteen on the jukebox and Invaders from Mars on a pinball machine?

  “Never seen you here before,” the man said.

  “Never been before.” The guy looked a little more distant, and maybe a little offended. Cal felt obligated to add, “But it’s a nice place.”

  “Nicer without the likes of him. I been comin’ here for near forty years, and that one right there and his friends, they been ruinin’ it the last few years.”

  “But you still come here.”

  A smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Owner’s a friend of mine. He cuts me a deal on my tab.”

  They went back to drinking beer and staring at the glow of the Coors Light sign behind the bar. Across the room Rafe had gone from tossing back shots to making out with the young woman on his lap. Cal kept half of his attention on Rafe, while the other half went over what the old guy had told him. He’d lived around here a long time. In forty years of sitting at this bar, he’d probably heard every rumor or bit of gossip in town. And he didn’t seem averse to voicing his opinions.

  “So you must know about everything that goes on in this town,” Cal said.

  “Reckon I do.”

  “I haven’t been here long, myself. Maybe you can give me some information.”

  “’Bout what?”

  “About where to find some available women. It’s tough competition here, what with all the Hollywood types throwing money around. I can’t compete with that.”

  The man nodded. “Ain’t that the truth. There’s not many women what can’t be won over by flashin’ a wad of cash.”

  The guy obviously didn’t associate with the right class of women, but that might be just as well for what Cal wanted to know. Maggie’s comment about the Larkin girls had grabbed his curiosity and wouldn’t let go. He wasn’t from a small town, but he couldn’t imagine her having a reputation so persistently bad that mentioning it still raised her hackles. Only one way to find out.

  “I hear I missed some good times in this town. Something about a couple of sisters. Lark? Larking?”

  “The Larkin girls.” The response was too fast and sure for Cal’s comfort. “They was too young for me.” He flicked his gaze over Cal. “You woulda liked ’em if you was lookin’ for a good time. They was lookin’, too. Way I hear it, they always found one.” He chuckled. “They musta gave as good as they got.”

  It was pretty much what Maggie had implied, but it bothered him to hear some old guy recite it like it was town history. He had to work at keeping a neutral expression. “They aren’t around anymore?”

  “Oh, sure. Just toned it down a whole lot. ’Course, that might not be true, from what I heard. One of ’em just got in a tangle with some big movie star up at the Alpine Sky. Got in a fight over her sleepin’ around while she was supposed to be sleepin’ with him. It’s all over the papers, so I guess it’s true. A leopard don’t change its spots, do it?”

 
Cal bit down hard for several seconds until he could talk without coming unglued. “I heard about that. But the way I heard it, he was coming on to her and she was trying to get him to leave her alone.”

  “Huh. You gonna hear it all different ways, but the way I figure, once a slut, always a slut.”

  Cal stared at him, imagining choking him until his pasty white face turned purple. The visual helped him keep his hands to himself until he was sure he could speak calmly. No matter how despicable, he couldn’t afford to ignore a good source of information.

  “Heard there was some trouble with abductions of young women around here.”

  The guy screwed up his face. “Where’d you hear that? Ain’t much crime around here, and sure as hell none of those psycho killers, if that’s what you’re talkin’ about.”

  “Maybe I misunderstood. I thought some girls disappeared about a year ago. They never found their bodies.”

  The man nodded several times as his memory kicked in. “I bet I know what you’re talkin’ about. It was just one girl who disappeared; my sister knew the family. One of them kids what’s out of control and the parents can’t do nothin’ about it, you know? Fuckin’ idiots. Way I heard it, this girl ran off with some guy is all. They investigated, but naturally they didn’t find nothin’. Little shit’s probably turning tricks somewheres, too ashamed to call home. Happens all the time.”

  Not in Cal’s world, but then, he lived in the real one. “I thought there was another disappearance, too.”

  “Not that I heard of.” The guy squinted at Cal over his beer. “Who you been talkin’ to, boy?”

  “The wrong people, I guess.”

  “I guess.”

  “Well, thanks for the information. I’ll see you around.” He slapped some money on the bar and walked out the door. He’d learned all he needed to know. Barringer’s Pass clung to its favorite scandals and swept others out of sight. The difference lay in how titillating the scandal was.

  Maggie’s had been plenty titillating. He’d rather spend the rest of the night huddled in his cold car than sit next to a guy who trashed her so easily and so thoroughly.

  So that was what she was up against. No wonder she’d reacted the way she had. He figured Rafe was lucky he still had all his teeth. If Cal had known Maggie’s story a few days ago, he would have stepped in sooner. Rafe would have been sipping his dinner through a straw for the next few months.

  He still didn’t like the idea of her tangling with De Luca. It was reckless—his least favorite attribute in a woman.

  But damn, he was glad she’d taken the little bastard out.

  Maggie had braced herself for an immediate reaction to her most recent evening’s efforts at The Aerie. It actually took two days before the next papers hit the stands. And about two minutes after that for Cal to react.

  Her doorbell rang at seven in the morning. Maggie muttered curses as she looked for her robe, belting it over her tank top and panties as she shuffled to the front door. Braced for a furious lecture, she flung the door open, prepared to yell back.

  Cal was half sitting, butt propped on the porch rail, arms folded. Smiling. It hit her with a punch low in her stomach, taking the breath from her lungs. Covering quickly, she squinted in confusion. Cal never looked at her this way. Maybe the rising sun was glaring off his scowl, making it look like a smile.

  He shook his head when he saw her. The smile definitely grew wider. Her heart beat faster. “Good morning. Remind me never to get into a throw-down fight with you.”

  Besides being breathtaking, his good humor made her suspicious. “Why?”

  “You’re too good at it.” He reached for a folded paper on the rail, holding it up so she could see the bold headlines: RAFE WANTED A THREE-WAY, MAGGIE CLAIMS. Smaller print below it read, “Third Person Was a Man!”

  She blinked in surprise. “Wow. I’m a one-name star, like Cher.”

  “Congratulations.” He opened to the article, cleared his throat dramatically, and read aloud. “Maggie Larkin, the woman at the center of a torrid public brawl with actor and entertainment heir Rafe De Luca, is finally telling her side of the story. In a private interview with the National Tattler—”

  She snorted. “Real private—talking at The Aerie bar.”

  “—she claimed Rafe invited her to his suite, making clear he wanted to have sex, then asked another man to accompany them.” Cal looked up expectantly.

  “Absolutely true.” She couldn’t hold back her smile. “He told his bodyguard to come with us and make sure we weren’t disturbed. That was before I turned him down, of course.”

  “Of course.” He picked up another paper. “I thought this one was particularly inventive on your part,” he said, displaying the headlines for her appreciation: “Sex Shocker: Romeo Rafe Is Impotent!”

  She bit her lip to keep from smiling. “I didn’t say that.” She reconsidered. “Not exactly.”

  “Let me refresh your memory.” Cal opened to the article. “ ‘I saw him pop a couple pills shortly before he hit on me,’ Maggie claimed. When asked what they looked like, she said they were small and might have been blue.” He lifted one eyebrow, waiting for confirmation.

  “He did pop a couple pills.”

  “I know, he was doing it all night. They were Tic Tacs. White, not blue.”

  She shrugged. “If you say so. I couldn’t recall.”

  His mouth twitched. “Right.” He picked up the last paper and flipped to an article inside. “This one is my favorite. ‘Rafe De Luca Consults with Alien Ambassador.’ See the picture?” He held the paper up so she could see the grainy photo of Rafe with his arm around the shoulder of what looked like a small gray alien.

  “Cool. I don’t remember him from the bar.”

  “Apparently he and Rafe were trying to recruit you for their breeding program, and you objected. Not very sporting of you.”

  She tried to keep a straight face, but couldn’t. Laughing, she held her hand out. “I want to keep that one.”

  “You can have them all,” he said, handing them over. “Start a scrapbook. I hope you live long enough to finish it.”

  Maggie lost her smile. “You’re a real downer, Drummond, you know that?”

  “Yeah.” He stood. “Invite me in, Maggie.”

  Ignoring the way her nerve endings started tingling, she looked down at herself. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not dressed for company.”

  “That’s okay, it’s not a social visit. You’ve just drawn a line in the sand, and Rafe’s not going to stay on his side. If you’re going to survive, I think we’d better consult on strategy.” Without waiting for an answer, he brushed past her into the house, taking a long look at the robe where it came together over her chest, then an equally long look into her eyes that made her heart trip as she held the robe together at the front. . . . “Maybe you better get dressed first. I’ll wait.”

  Chapter

  Five

  He waited quite a while, killing time on her couch until she’d gotten dressed, fixed her hair, and made herself a cup of tea. Carrying the steaming mug into the living room, she settled in an adjacent chair.

  He wasn’t sure her skirt and blouse were any better than the robe. They certainly weren’t less distracting. At least the long robe had covered those shapely legs, which were now crossed at the knee and angled toward him as her bare foot bounced an impatient rhythm. Some part of her always seemed to be moving. If she was ever completely still he’d have to check her pulse.

  Maggie cradled the mug and sipped gingerly before speaking. “So what’s your strategy, other than making me practice saying ‘No comment’ to anything a reporter asks me?”

  “I really wish you’d tried that,” he said sincerely. “But it’s nice to know you learn from your mistakes.”

  She gave him a dark look. “And it’s even better when you point them out to me.”

  He laughed out loud, and her mouth nearly slipped into a smile. That small victory warmed him. He was su
rprised to find how much he wanted to make her laugh, to create that sparkling, musical sound he’d heard when he first noticed her at The Aerie.

  Unfortunately, what they had to discuss was not the least bit amusing. He lost the smile. “To start with, I don’t want you to be alone, Maggie. Ever. Rafe is going to start playing dirty, and I’m not sure how far he’ll go.”

  “Start playing dirty?” She gestured at the tabloids on the coffee table. “You don’t consider the other day’s pack of lies dirty? And that’s only half of it—Sophie said reporters have already contacted her grad advisor and her landlord, among others.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “That was fast.”

  “That was crossing the line. I know the De Lucas put them on that trail, and it’s already enough to hurt her. Image counts if you want to get hired to teach at a major university, you know. Trashing my name is one thing, but messing with my sister is a whole new ball game.”

  He waited for her anger to subside, but it didn’t look like that would happen anytime soon. He couldn’t blame her—this shouldn’t have anything to do with her family. But escalating the fight was a dangerous tactic. “I hope you know what you’re getting into.”

  “I’m only giving him back what he gave me.”

  “But he can do much worse than imply that you sleep with half the men you meet.”

  She glowered at her cup of tea for several seconds before flicking a glance at him. “I don’t, you know.”

  “You already told me.”

  She raised her chin. “I just want to make sure you believe it.”

  “I do.”

  “Thanks.” She relaxed a little. “At least someone does.”

  Tight lines lingered beside her mouth. He hadn’t realized how battered she must have been by her past, and by those years of slander about the Larkin girls. Even though her back had lost its stiffness, her eyes remained shadowed by memories. It was that look that touched him, that made him recognize a similar pain in himself. Reaching out, he laid his hand on her knee.

  “I understand,” he began. That was all he got out. He lost the rest of his thoughts as his hand met her warm skin and her eyes lifted to his. It was like being hit with a double whammy, the intensity of her gaze, and the sizzling awareness of her body as it radiated up from his fingers and shot through his chest. He’d touched her before, but never when she looked so vulnerable and . . . desirable.