Undying Laughter

“Not exactly,” Wes said as he moved to stand directly in front of her.

His tall body blocked her view of the others in the room. Gently he placed his thumb under her chin and applied just enough pressure to force her to meet his eyes. For what felt like an eternity, Wesley searched her face, his eyes roaming over every feature. She held her breath, somehow sensing that whatever he was about to say wasn’t going to be good news. She was right.

“Greg Miller was found shot to death two weeks before you received that invoice.”

Chapter Four

Destiny was still shaken by the news long after Dylan and Wesley had gone. She was also confused by the uncharacteristic behavior of the two individuals whom she considered her closest friends.

After Dylan and Wesley left, David explained that he had come crashing into the villa because he’d heard her scream from his room two doors down.

“Don’t ever go into law enforcement,” she teased him. “Not if it takes you the better part of a half hour to respond to what you think might be a crisis situation.”

David blushed slightly. “I wasn’t dressed,” he defended lamely.

“Neither was I,” Destiny said, closing her eyes at the memory.

“Those two just showed up here?”

“Right on the first guess.” She sighed. “I certainly didn’t invite them.”

“I’ll speak to Rose. I’ll tell her we don’t want her kid inter—”

“Please don’t do that,” Destiny interrupted. “And I’d hardly call Dr. Porter a kid.”

“Then why does he still live with his mommy?” David retorted snidely.

Destiny regarded him for a long, quiet moment. He was really angry. Obviously he hadn’t yet forgiven her for choosing the beach over the city.

Glancing up at the clock, she almost let out a groan when she noted it was nearly two in the morning. This was supposed to be the night she caught up on lost sleep. Instead, she knew she was destined to try salving David’s rumpled feathers yet one more time.

Gee, she thought glibly to herself, then I can wait a few hours and have my mother screeching in my ear for not following her directive.

* * *

HER PREDICTION PROVED true when she got “the call” at precisely 8:45 the next morning.

And also true to form, Mona was furious. “Why is Carl still in jail?”

“Because he broke the law in some small town in Georgia?” Destiny asked sweetly, cringing when she heard the irritated sigh come across the line.

“I told your girl to have you handle it immediately.”

“Gina isn’t my girl,” Destiny corrected gently. How could her mother have gone from Woodstock to snob in just one lifetime? she wondered not for the first time. “I got in late, but I plan to take care of the fine first thing.”

“How could you have left him in some small town jail for the night?”

“I doubt he noticed,” Destiny assured her mother. “They’ll probably have to perform CPR just to get him out of the cell.”

“Is everything a joke with you?” Mona asked.

Destiny heard the rustle of fabric and knew her mother was pulling on her judicial robes as the conversation progressed.

“I wasn’t joking,” Destiny promised her mother in a more respectful tone. “The charge was drunk and disorderly. If he’d been tossed out last night, before some of the alcohol wore off, I was afraid of what might happen.”

Mona was silent for a second. “I suppose that was one way of handling it. But next time I’ll consider calling Peace. Even though your sister and her husband struggle for every cent they have. Children are expensive.”

“And Peace ought to know. That must be some kind of record, four kids in five years?”

“Your sister understands the importance of family.”

“My sister needs to get a VCR or find some other way to spend her evenings.”

“My clerk is calling,” Mona told her in clipped syllables that fully and completely conveyed her disappointment in her firstborn child. “Can I count on you to handle this situation?”

“Of course you can,” Destiny told her. “Have I ever let you down? Wait!” she quickly amended. “Don’t answer that. Love you, bye.”

“How is her royal nastiness?” Gina asked.

Destiny shrugged, sure her friend had heard enough of the conversation to understand the status quo between mother and daughter was basically the same.

“You look exhausted,” Gina commented. “Do you want coffee now or do you want to try and get some more sleep?”

Placing her fingers over her tired eyes, Destiny knew returning to sleep wasn’t a possibility. Visions of Wesley Porter had haunted her dreams, leaving her feeling oddly lonely in the first light of day. Her dreams, like most everything else about her, tended to be bold and vivid. The resplendent images of being locked in his strong arms had awakened her on more than one occasion during the night.

“Probably best if I start the day,” she said as her feet hit the floor. “I sure hope my mother’s call won’t set the tone for the day.”

“Maybe that cute doctor will find another lame excuse to drop in.”

She looked up to find Gina staring at her, one brow arched toward her neat French twist.

“Meaning?”

“Are you telling me you aren’t attracted to him?”

“I don’t even know him,” she said as she pulled on her robe.

“What’s to know? The guy’s gorgeous, friendly—seems like the perfect material for a short-term fling.”

“I don’t have short-term flings.”

“Well,” Gina persisted, “maybe it’s about time for one.”

“It’s career time,” Destiny insisted. “Once I’ve established myself, then I can think about a husband and a family.”

Feeling Gina’s hand on her shoulder, Destiny looked up into the sad, chocolate-colored eyes. “I didn’t suggest anything permanent, necessarily. But don’t keep kidding yourself, Destiny. You’re counting on a future. Futures change. I’m an expert on the subject.”

* * *

SLIPPING HIS GLASSES from the bridge of his nose, Wesley surveyed the flurry of activity from the shadows near the door. An appreciative smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he admired her from a distance. That woman didn’t need stage paint and glitter. “And she sure as hell doesn’t wash out,” he muttered.

“No, she sure doesn’t.”

“Hello,” he said, tearing his gaze from the stage and glancing in his mother’s general direction.

“Is everything all right?”

“I guess.” Clipping his glasses into the front of his shirt, he allowed his eyes to travel back to the small woman cradling the microphone.

“I thought you were supposed to be studying,” Rose observed.

“Just taking a break,” he said defensively.

“Or have you decided to study the human body instead of the human mind?”

He gave his mother a sidelong look meant to quell the optimism he heard in her voice. “I was simply taking a break, and wandered in here for a couple of minutes.”

His mother nodded but gave absolutely no other indication that she was convinced about his motives. “Shelby called, said she and Dylan were coming by tonight to catch the show.”

“I’m sure they’ll enjoy themselves. They haven’t had much time together since Cassidy was born.”

“I told them we’d reserve a table for six down front.”

“Six?”

His mother patted her lacquered hair and averted her eyes. “I asked Destiny’s manager and that woman Gina to join us.”

Wesley swallowed the groan in his throat. “Her manager’s a jerk.”

“Is that a medical observation?” Rose teased. “Or personal, maybe?”

Wesley smiled at his mother. He knew better than to pursue this line of dialogue. Rose had made no secret of her desire to have a daughter-in-law and some grandchildren in residence at The Rose Tattoo.

“I’ve got to get back to work,” Wes said.

“You can’t do that,” Rose told him.

“Why not?”

“Because I told Destiny you’d drive her home after they finish setting up all these lights and microphones.”

“Why did you do that?” he asked, trying to sound perturbed, though the thought of spending some time alone with Destiny appealed to him much more than he was willing to admit—even to himself.

“Because I was under the impression that you were protecting her from whoever is sending her the flowers. Shelby told me that you’ve enlisted Dylan, as well.”

“I simply asked him to give me an assessment of the situation.”

“So that explains why you dragged him out to the beach in the middle of the night.”

Wes felt his cheeks color.

“And—” Rose tapped her finger against his breastbone “—Shelby is very unhappy that you dragged her husband out in the middle of the night. But I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it this evening.”

“Great,” Wes grumbled. “Maybe I’ll skip opening night.”

“Why would you do that?”

Wes spun and found himself staring down into those breathtaking violet eyes. “My mother got me into trouble with Shelby.”

He watched, fascinated, when her lips parted and she blew a steady stream of breath upward, toward perspiration-dampened bangs. Her mouth was perfect. Her lips reminded him of sweet cherries—full and ripe. His mind flashed vivid images, all of which, he felt sure, would earn him a resounding slap from either Destiny or his mother. Or both.

He smelled good, she thought as she tilted her face up. And he was staring rather intently at her mouth. It shouldn’t have bothered her, but Destiny’s pulse increased when she noted the blatant curiosity as he scrutinized her features. Without even trying, Wesley had her nerves tingling with a very potent mixture of anticipation and expectation. As his blue-gray eyes traveled over her features, Destiny felt as if she was being caressed. It was unnerving.

“So,” she began as soon as she’d placed a protective smile between herself and the doctor, “you’ll be here tonight? I’m usually at my best on the first and last nights.”

“Really?” Wes said, his head listing pensively to the left. “I’ll try to remember that.”

“Don’t strain yourself,” she retorted, meeting his amused eyes. “Gina said you invited her to join you this evening. Thank you,” Destiny said to Rose. “She usually gets stuck backstage. It was very thoughtful of you to include her.”

“Don’t be silly. We’ll have a lovely time.”

She gave the woman’s forearm a gentle squeeze. “Still, it was a very nice thing for you to do.”

Destiny was a little surprised to see the woman’s cheeks color slightly beneath the thick layer of blusher.

“I’ve got a few things to do back at my office. Wes will run you out to the beach.”

“If you’re in the middle of studying, I can take a cab. As I told Rose, it’s not a problem.”

She watched as his broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It’s not an inconvenience.”

She regarded him through the thickness of her lashes. “I don’t believe you.”

He met her eyes and said, “It is an inconvenience, but not nearly as inconvenient as the ramifications if I don’t take you home.”

“What?”

“If I don’t take you home, my mother will rag on me for days. So you see, taking you home is a far superior option than incurring the wrath of Rose.”

Destiny smiled. “Mothers are such fun, aren’t they? I bet she had you on a guilt trip all through your childhood.”

“I didn’t grow up with Rose,” he said quietly. “My parents were divorced when I was small. I lived with my father and stepmother.”

“It looks like we have something in common, Doctor. My folks split up when I was five.”

“Casualties of relaxed divorce laws.”

“Is that what you think?” Destiny asked, her fingers automatically moving to his arm. His skin was warm beneath her touch. “Divorce was the best solution for my parents. I shudder to think what would have happened to all of us if they’d stayed together.”

“Meaning?”

Her brow wrinkled at the clinical ring to his question. “My sister and I would have been the casualties if my mother hadn’t left my father. He drank, they fought. Hardly a nurturing environment for children.”

“You have a sister?”

“Peace,” she said.

“Peace and Destiny?” he said, struggling to contain the snicker.

“Childbirth and LSD.” Destiny sighed.

“No wonder your father is chemically dependent.”

“He’s a drunk,” Destiny corrected. “I love him dearly in spite of it, so you don’t have to worry about being so politically correct.”

“I wasn’t being politically correct,” he asserted as his hand snaked around her waist.

Destiny could feel the warm indentation of his splayed fingers as he guided her out into the midday sun. She swallowed, hoping to quell the spark igniting in the pit of her stomach.

“Chemically dependent isn’t politically correct?” she challenged. “Right.”

“I meant it in the medical sense. If your father was attracted to drugs in his youth, he’s probably an addictive personality. One sort of dependency usu—”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be studying now,” Destiny interjected. “You sound like a textbook, Doctor. Lighten up.”

“A textbook, huh?”

Destiny slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses and tried not to fixate on the feel of his thigh brushing hers as they walked slowly down the stone path to the parking area. It was like trying not to take a breath. Every cell in her body seemed to be aware of him on some level. Her mind honed in on every conceivable detail. The lithe movements of his body, the muscled strength of his thighs, the rather cocky assuredness of his swagger. She took in his profile from behind the safety of her glasses. He was certainly attractive, but that didn’t explain her response. Wesley wasn’t the first attractive man she’d encountered. But he is the first intelligent, attractive man I’ve met, her mind reasoned.

He held open the door of his car.

“This is yours?” she asked, cocking her head to one side as she stood next to the Mercedes convertible.

“Not bad transportation for a textbook, is it?”

Destiny snapped her mouth shut and scurried into the car. Why was Wes the one with all the punch lines? And why was she now adding financially stable to attractive and intelligent?

He slid behind the wheel, tugging at the knees of his faded jeans in one fluid motion. Destiny fumbled with the seat belt as he started the engine. She was just regaining her equilibrium, when Wes reached across her lap to open the glove box. His forearm pressed against her legs, rustling the flimsy fabric of her cotton dress.

“What are you doing?”

His answer came in the form of a sudden pop, as the forward edges of the convertible top were released. Wesley didn’t right himself immediately. His hand dropped from the glove box, and his fingers wrapped around the contours of her knee. He was close enough for Destiny to be able to smell the fresh scent of his shampoo. Close enough for her to feel the urge to run her fingers through the thick mass of unruly dark hair falling forward into his eyes. Close enough for her to feel the heat emanating from his massive frame. Destiny went perfectly still.

He drew closer, until she could feel the warmth of his breath wash over her face. Quietly his eyes searched her face before he asked, “Any further developments from your fan?”

An involuntary shiver doused her budding passions the instant she thought of the creepy notes and flowers.

“Not a word.”

Destiny should have commented when his hand slid from her knee to her waist, then over her arm and her shoulder, until she could feel his palm cup her chin. Where was her sharp wit? Surely she could think of some cute remark that would inspire him to take his hand away. She could, but she didn’t want to.

She knew that for certain when she braved a look at his face. Concern seemed to temper his expression. She saw it in the deep lines beside his eyes and mouth.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

“Sure,” she responded with false lightness as she pulled back from his touch. “I’m fine. I tried to tell you last night that I’m not letting this fruitcake get to me.”

He frowned, apparently not buying her brave front. “He’s getting to you. You’re too smart to be so nonchalant about a potential threat.”

“Gee,” Destiny began, batting her lashes at him, “nice compliment. Sorta like ‘That dress doesn’t make you look quite so fat.’”

“You know what I meant,” Wesley countered with a frown.

“I know,” she said, softening her expression with a genuine smile. “But you’re wrong about me.”

“Really?”

“I’m not intimidated by this guy.”

“Caution and intimidation aren’t the same thing.”

“I know,” she said, winking in an attempt to lighten his mood. “I’m smart. Remember?”

“Then be smart enough to do whatever’s necessary to find out why you’re being stalked.”

Destiny swatted his hand away and ran her fingers through her hair. “Please stop using the word stalked. And either put on the air-conditioning or throw back the top. I’m going to expire in this heat.”

“Avoidance,” he grumbled as he reached over and pressed something that made a whirring sound.

Blue skies, bright sun and a sweet-smelling breeze filled the car. “I’m not avoiding anything,” she told him as he put the car into Drive.

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m not.” Destiny turned in the seat, tucking her leg beneath her in the process. Her eyes took in the strong angles of his face. Everything about this man seemed to exude strength.

“Whatever you say.”

“I’m not,” she insisted. “I’m simply not willing to allow some lunatic to dictate my actions.”

“And what happens if this lunatic decides he wants to do more than just admire you from afar? Then what?”

“Are you trying to scare me to death?”

“No. I’m trying to get you to understand the potential danger of this situation.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Caring.”

Wesley met her eyes briefly. “Don’t most people care about you?”

“You answered my question with a question. You do that a lot.”

“Sorry.”

“My friends care about me, Doctor. But we’re hardly friends.”

“Really?”

“That’s another question.”

“Sorry.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Why aren’t we friends?”

“We don’t know each other,” Destiny said with a little laugh. “Maybe we would have been friends. That isn’t the point. I don’t understand why you’ve made me your cause du jour.”

“You aren’t a cause. You’re a woman with a serious problem.”

As she digested his answer, she wasn’t quite sure whether she liked it or not. “I’m a woman used to solving her own problems.”

“I’m sure you are,” Wesley told her easily. “But there’s no crime in asking for help. Especially when it’s freely offered.”

“Nothing in life is free, Doctor.”

“Very cynical,” he observed. “Care to expound?”

“Not particularly. Suffice it to say that I strongly believe that you have to pay for everything in one way or another.”

“I believe you’ve just simplified the dynamics of karma into a cross-stitch sampler.”

“Cute,” Destiny remarked, feeling herself relax. “Beneath that professional exterior lives a wicked sense of humor.”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“Your secret is safe. Besides, I’m not keen on any more competition.”

“Do you constantly look over your shoulder for the next shining star?”

Destiny smiled and captured her hair in her fist as the car accelerated out of the city. “I try never to look back. It isn’t healthy.”

“Are you always this evasive?” Wesley queried.

“I guess it’s been a long time since I carried on a conversation with anyone other than Gina or David.”

“Very limited. Too limited for such a beautiful young woman.”

“Thanks, I think. You certainly are good at giving backhanded compliments.”

“Sorry. Must be Rose’s influence.”

“She seems like a very nice lady. Very real.”

“Except for her delusions about Elvis Presley and her passion for wearing animal prints.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a flamboyant personal style or an appreciation of the King.”

“I agree. But I’ll admit it was something of a shock to discover my mother looked and acted like a reject from some BBC comedy.”

“What do you mean, discover?”

“I’ve only recently reestablished a relationship with Rose. Mostly because of my brother, J.D. He and his wife went back to Florida shortly after they were married.”

“He’s the guy who did the dependency?” she asked.

Wesley nodded. “He and Tory—that’s his wife—had some trouble with the renovations.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“They found a body shorn up in the wall.”

“Yuk!” Destiny said with a groan. “Thanks for sharing that with me. It will make standing on that stage really comfortable.”

“It wasn’t a body, actually. It was a skeleton. And everything worked out in the end.”

“Sounds peachy,” Destiny managed to say. “Anything else you’d like to share with me?”

“I could tell you about Chad’s kidnapping, but I’ll save that for another time.”

“Chad? Isn’t that Agent Tanner’s son?”

“Yep.”

“Is The Rose Tattoo cursed, or something?”

“Nothing so sinister,” Wes assured her. “Just a bad year or so for the locals.”

“I guess if my admirer shows up, he’ll be in good company here in Charleston. That’s something.”

“Calm down, Destiny. The guy in the wall was the former owner. And the Tanners’ son was returned safely to his very grateful, albeit overly indulgent, parents.”

“And everyone lived happily ever after,” she said as they parked in front of the villa.

“Absolutely,” he answered holding her door open.

“Then I guess I should feel relieved that I’m here.”

“Maybe not,” Wes said, nodding his head in the direction of the door to her villa.

“Great!” Destiny fumed as she spotted the large, crudely wrapped package guarding the entrance.

“Wait a second!” she heard Wesley call out. Determination and a fair amount of anger fueled each step. “I can’t believe he found out where I was staying.”

“I think we should call Dylan.”

Destiny tore into the paper expecting flowers. But it wasn’t flowers.

Chapter Five

“Don’t touch it,” Wesley instructed as he gathered her against him, his eyes fixed on the weird thing.

“Don’t worry,” she replied, her hands clutching the fabric of his shirt. “I have no desire to touch that.”

She remained against him while he dug into her purse, got her keys and led her into the villa. “We’ll call Dylan, and I think we should consider calling the police.”

“And tell them what?” she asked, tilting her face upward. “I’ve been down this road already. The authorities can’t do anything until this fruitcake actually threatens me,” she said as she pushed away from him and moved across the room.

He leaned against the counter as silent rage welled inside him. “What he did to that doll is somewhat threatening.”

She shivered and ran her hands along the bared flesh of her arms. Her expression was guarded—only her eyes gave him an insight to her true feelings. What he saw in her eyes was a blend of fear and disbelief. Wesley intellectualized the disbelief, but his response to the fear was more primitive, more primal. Despite the inherent strength he sensed in Destiny, he also believed there was a fair amount of vulnerability buried beneath the surface. Not a helpless vulnerability, but a vulnerability born of determination.

“I don’t understand,” he said, stuffing his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

She nervously twisted several strands of hair around one long, tapered finger. “I spoke to a police officer in Miami. They told me that until this guy does something more overtly threatening than sending flowers, there’s nothing they can do.”