Taken Beyond Temptation

But when Avery had discovered the remains of a thin wire he suspected someone had strung across the top step, he’d decided to call Ian.

After hearing Avery’s story, Ian had agreed with the hotel manager on three points. He was right to be concerned, it was too soon to tell if the incidents were related and, therefore, too soon to worry the sisters.

But when he’d offered to come and investigate further, he had to wonder if that hadn’t been related to his own desire to finally become a serious operative in the field. If he was going to be a true partner to Dane, he had to contribute more than tech support. And lately, research work could become a bit tedious and he’d begun to envy his brother’s more active side of the investigative business.

But keeping his investigation under wraps was going to be a challenge now that Jillian Brightman was on the island.

Good thing he loved surprises. And challenges.

As Jillian’s car disappeared from view, Ian returned to his SUV and started it up the hill to Haworth House. Thanks to the last case he and his brother Dane had worked on, he’d done some research on all three of the Brightman sisters.

Oddly enough, the women’s backstory had certain parallels with his and Dane’s. The Brightmans had lost their parents when they were very young and they’d been raised by nuns in a convent boarding school in the south of France. Dane and he had been nine and seven, their other brother four and their sister two when their mother’s sudden death from a brain aneurysm had brought social services down on them with a vengeance. Ian hadn’t seen any of his family after that until a year and a half ago when Dane had tracked him down at his analyst job with the CIA.

Since then, he and his brother had not only begun to appreciate the fact that they were related, but they’d also discovered that their talents meshed. He was the intellectual, Dane the man of action. Ian had left the CIA to go into the security and investigation business with his big brother.

The breakup of their family had been hardest on Dane. He’d been stuck in the foster care system. And although his older brother had been stingy with the details, Ian knew that he’d spent some time on the streets and that the reason Dane had turned to investigative work was because he’d vowed to eventually find and reunite his family.

Compared with Dane’s, his own experiences after he’d lost everyone had been a fairy tale. Within a year, he’d been adopted by a Catholic family who’d wanted to take in a third child after being blessed with two of their own. One of their sons was a year older, the other a year younger, and there’d been adjustments to be made on both sides. JoAnn, his mother, had never made him feel as if he was different or not really hers. But his adoptive father had been another story. Even at seven, it hadn’t taken Ian long to figure out the “rules.” He quickly learned to stay on the sidelines and not to compete or outshine either of his brothers. And he’d still managed to get into MIT and find a career path that he enjoyed. All in all, he couldn’t complain.

Now he had Dane back, and he shared his brother’s goal to find the rest of their family.

The Brightmans had been luckier in a way. They’d never been separated. And just recently Naomi, the oldest, and Dane had found each other. They’d met right here at Haworth House while Dane was on the trail of a world-class swindler, Michael Davenport. The instant Dane had seen Naomi, he’d taken a direct hit from cupid’s arrow, and ever since, Ian had seen little hearts circling his older brother’s head. Currently, Dane and Naomi were on holiday in France.

Good for Dane. It was about time. But a permanent relationship just wasn’t in the cards for Ian MacFarland. He knew from experience that building relationships required time and constant attention. He had enough on his plate. Getting reacquainted with his brother and figuring out how to be the right kind of partner in MacFarland Investigations required all of his focus.

As Ian turned his car into the driveway of Haworth House, he felt a little skip of excitement. He’d seen it on the Internet, taken the virtual tour provided by the Web site, but the place with its gray stone turrets and the tower that rose into the sunny blue sky was something to behold. To the right of the main entrance, he could see the terraced gardens and the maze that bordered them.

After alighting from his car and turning his keys over to a valet, Ian shouldered his duffel and entered the lobby. He spotted Avery Cooper behind the front desk. The tall, handsome man with the chocolate-colored skin had been Jillian’s college roommate, and the sisters had hired him to run Haworth House. It had been a wise decision in Ian’s opinion. In the years since he’d shared living quarters with Jillian, Avery had earned himself an MBA from Harvard Business School. And if the press was to be believed, business at Haworth House was booming.

Of course, the whole media blitz surrounding the arrest of Michael Davenport along with the rumors that the spirit of silent-film star Hattie Haworth had assisted in the swindler’s apprehension had helped.

The instant Avery spotted him, he shot Ian a smile; then he turned the man he was talking to over to an assistant and signaled Ian to follow him.

Avery waited until he’d ushered Ian into the private suite above his office before he spoke. “We’re in deep shit. Jillian arrived unexpectedly this morning.”

“Yes,” Ian said as he dropped his duffel. “I nearly ran into her on the road up here. We spoke briefly.”

Avery’s eyes narrowed on him. “You talked to her? She knows you’re here?”

“She knows I’m here. She doesn’t know who I am. The cars weren’t damaged—thanks to some pretty fancy maneuvering on her part. And she was in a great rush to get to Belle Bay, so we didn’t get to the exchanging names and insurance companies part. No need. We were fine. The cars were undamaged.”

Avery drew in a deep breath. “Please sit down. Would you like something to drink? Water, beer, wine? I usually know how to greet guests better than this.”

And that told Ian more than each of their previous conversations just how concerned Avery was about the series of unsettling incidents that had recently plagued Haworth House.

“Water would be great.”

He followed Avery into the kitchen of the suite and accepted the bottle of water the man retrieved from the refrigerator.

“Why is Jillian here?” Ian asked.

“She was supposed to return next week to close on a new property she purchased in Belle Bay. She plans on opening her own antique store there. But yesterday, a Colonel Jenkins called her and requested a meeting. He and his son are buying a string of small hotels along the Carolina coastlines. The places are in need of updating and they’re interested in hiring Jillian as a chief consultant. But first they want to see what she’s done with Haworth House. She changed her plans immediately. Haworth House is a testimonial to her talent. What you see in the lobby and the dining room, as well as the guest rooms—she designed it all. She searched for and acquired the antiques herself. When they get here tomorrow, the place will knock their socks off.”

As Avery talked, Ian noticed the admiration and the love in the man’s voice. The two had never been romantically involved, but Avery and Jillian had been friends for a long time. He knew from the original research he’d done that Avery had a long-term relationship with a man named Matt Trudell.

“So how do you want to handle this? Should I just tell her who I am and say I’m taking a little vacation?”

Avery frowned. “The first thing she’ll do is call Naomi. Then Dane will call you wanting to know why you’re really here. I’ve met your brother. He’ll probably want to cut short his trip and join you.”

The scenario Avery was painting was more than a strong possibility, Ian thought.

“I think we ought to go with your original idea,” Avery continued. “You’re a writer, and you’re here to research Haworth House. Your book will tell the true story of why Hattie settled here and why she remained a recluse all those years, etcetera, etcetera. It gives you a good excuse to ask questions and snoop around the place. I’ve already let some of the staff know, and they’re willing to talk to you.”

“Fine.”

Avery met his eyes. “There’s another reason I don’t want Jillian to know who you are and why you’re really here. This meeting tomorrow with the Jenkinses could be a huge turning point in her career. I don’t want her worried about something that may turn out to be nothing. Reese is filming her first TV show in L.A. Naomi is with Dane, and I’ve never seen her so happy. I don’t want any of them distracted if I’m just making a mountain out of a molehill.”

“Got it.” Ian twisted the cap off his water bottle. Posing as a writer would be his first experience masquerading as someone else. It was a technique his brother Dane used all the time, and Ian was looking forward to the challenge.

“I don’t see a problem going ahead with our plan,” he said. “Jillian and I were two strangers meeting after an accident that didn’t happen. I’ll try to keep my distance, keep a low profile. If she asks, I’ll use the cover we’ve decided on.”

“In your favor, you don’t look like an investigator.”

Ian glanced down at his well-worn T-shirt, his threadbare jeans and grinned. “Dane says I’m going through a late rebellion stage. I worked five years behind a computer at the CIA in a suit and a tie.”

“Ah,” Avery said. “A research geek.”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

Avery’s booming laugh filled the room. “Hell, no. I’m an avid fan of Tom Clancy’s Jack Ryan, and that’s what he was.”

Ian grinned. “I’m a fan of Jack’s, too.” He set his water bottle down. “Let’s say you’re not making a mountain out of a molehill. What do you think is going on here?”

Frustration flickered across Avery’s face. “All of the incidents so far seem to have been targeting the hotel. Some guests were upset when the air-conditioning system was off for a day, and it may have resulted in some bad word of mouth. But if the chef hadn’t discovered the poisonous mushrooms or if that woman had seriously injured herself when she took that tumble down the stairs, the publicity could have seriously damaged the reputation of Haworth House. The hotel could have taken a huge hit financially.”

Ian nodded. “So the Brightman sisters may have an enemy who is upset with their success.”

“That’s what I’m thinking. But I can’t think of who that might be.”

“Then the sooner I get started the better. What’s my writer name by the way? You’ll have to register me under it.”

“Any objection to going with Jack Ryan?”

“None at all.” But as Avery moved past him, Ian put a hand on his arm. “Just put me in a room close to Jillian’s. In the event you’re not being paranoid, I’d like to be close in case the threats escalate.”

Avery’s expression hardened. “You think she might be personally in danger?”

“You’re afraid of that, too,” he said. “That’s part of the reason you don’t want the sisters informed about the threats. If they thought the hotel was really in danger, they’d all come back.”

Avery studied him for a moment. “I’m glad I called you, Jack. Let’s get you registered.”

3

AS JILLIAN STEPPED OUT of the law offices of Bisson and Tanner, she barely restrained herself from doing a happy dance right there on the sidewalk. Ever since she’d decided that interior design was where her true talents lay, she’d been dreaming of eventually opening her own store. But it hadn’t been until she and her sisters had bought Haworth House and turned it into a hotel that she’d started to believe she could turn her particular dream into a reality.

Oh, she knew she was taking a risk—starting a new business venture so soon after opening the hotel. But once she’d seen the Kellys’ bookstore on Main Street and discovered that it was available, she simply hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to buy it ahead of schedule. A whole two years ahead of schedule.

Walking to the edge of the sidewalk, she glanced up and down the main street of the small village that was becoming so familiar to her. The sharp, sudden blast of the ferry’s horn had her turning right to watch it pull away from the dock. Brightly colored umbrellas adorned the patio of a restaurant close to the water. Across the street from where she stood was the crowded coffee shop, Uncommon Grounds, with its green-and-white-striped awnings. In the block up from that was a gift shop and a bank, and directly across from the real estate office was what was going to be her new antique store.

Just thinking about it had her heart skipping a beat. The key in her hand and the papers she’d just signed in Myron Bisson’s office had made it really hers.

The Kellys, a couple in their seventies, had run a bookstore there for over forty years, but they’d wanted to have more time to visit grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Right now they were in Ireland doing just that. They’d signed the papers before they’d left, and the key had just been waiting for her.

Opening her fist, Jillian stared down at it. Risk taking was not new to her. And she’d paid the price for her tendency to rush into things. But convincing her sisters to buy Haworth House had paid off, and she just had a feeling she was on a roll.

This time she gave in to the impulse to do a little happy dance. A part of her wanted to run up the street, open the door of the old bookstore and just look at the place that was now hers.

Another part of her wanted to share the good news with someone. She could call Avery, of course. He would have come with her if he could have gotten away. Instead she started up the street toward Molly Pepperman’s boutique on the corner. Molly had been the first friend she’d made in Belle Bay, and she’d introduced her to the Kellys. And now they would be fellow retailers.

She’d taken a few steps toward her destination when her attention was diverted by a silver-toned SUV pulling into a parking space directly across from her. Something moved through her then—and she sensed who the driver was even before he opened the door. It was him—the tall, lanky stranger she’d nearly smashed into and very nearly kissed.

While she’d been in Mr. Bisson’s office, she’d been successful at putting that memory out of her mind. But as he emerged from the car, the details flooded her system with a vengeance. He took his time locking the car, and all the while awareness prickled along her nerve endings, her pulse raced, and the air seemed to thicken around her.

She couldn’t drag her gaze away from him as he headed down the sidewalk toward the pier. The worn jeans and T-shirt hugged a long, lean body, and the aviator sunglasses added to the appeal. The man had a great deal of eye candy going for him.

Something close to panic bubbled inside her. The eye-candy factor didn’t fully account for the intensity of her reaction to him. On the ride into town, she’d almost convinced herself that her initial response had been the result of her near-death experience. But why was it happening again?

Her heart was thudding, her blood heating in her veins. It was ridiculous. The man was a perfect stranger.

And that was when the memory slammed into her—a bare-fisted punch that had her backing into a nearby planter and sitting down hard on the edge.

Good grief. Could her reaction to this man be related to the parchment she’d pulled out of that damn fantasy box she’d found in Hattie’s secret room?

No. She pressed her hands to her head to stop the spinning. Hattie Haworth’s fantasy box was something that only a very few people were aware of. She and her sisters knew. And Naomi had probably told Dane. In the media blitz surrounding the arrest of Naomi’s exfiancé, Michael Davenport, the fact that Hattie’s ghost was alive and well, so to speak, at the hotel had leaked to the press. But the existence of her fantasy box had been kept private. And she’d never told anyone—not even Naomi and Reese—the fantasy she’d pulled out.

You will experience all of the sensory delights and adventure that come with being swept away by a stranger.

There was no denying it. The hunky stranger had swept her away. For those few breathless moments on the hillside, she’d forgotten everything else.

Closing her eyes, she tried to clear her mind. She’d been working too hard. There was the stress of starting up her first retail venture and the meeting with Colonel Jenkins tomorrow. If the colonel was pleased with what she’d done at Haworth House, he could take her into the big leagues as an interior designer. And that would give her just the boost she needed to ensure the success of her store. Those were the things she should be focusing on.

Instead, the words on the top of the hatbox blinked on and off in her mind like a neon sign. Choose carefully. The one you draw out will come true.

Being swept away by a stranger had been a secret fantasy of hers when she was fourteen. By then, her reading had graduated from Nancy Drew to romance novels—the ones with bodice-ripper covers that she’d had to hide from the nuns. It had been exciting to read them, even more exciting to daydream her own forbidden and amorous adventures.

In the convent school, she’d always felt more confined than her sisters. Naomi was a scholar and focused on her goal of attending college in the States. And as long as the nuns allowed Reese to experiment in the kitchen, she was as happy as a clam.

But Jillian had always fantasized about escape. No wonder she’d dreamed about being swept away to a more adventurous life by slightly dangerous strangers. In her fantasies, she’d often imagined her hero to be Harrison Ford in his Indiana Jones persona.

On that first night when she’d entered the tower room and Hattie had shown her the secret room, she’d convinced herself that pulling that particular fantasy out of the box was a coincidence. But later when she’d shown her sisters the secret room and hatbox, they’d each drawn out parchments.

And she’d drawn the same one— You will experience all the sensory delights and adventure that come with being swept away by a stranger.

Evidently, the fantasies had struck a personal note with her sisters, too, because they hadn’t shared them. Maybe because of that warning on the top of the box.

Choose carefully. The one you draw out will come true.

The kicker was that Naomi’s already had come true and it had brought her Dane. She’d told them that much on the day after Michael Davenport had shot her. And she’d claimed that Hattie had played a role in saving Dane’s life.

What other kind of role might Hattie be playing? Could a ghost actually engineer which fantasy she and her sisters had pulled out? And what in the world had Hattie used those fantasies for? Why had she hidden them and nothing else in that secret room?

Was the one she’d drawn out going to come true just as Naomi’s had?

Did she want it to?

No. No. No. She was being ridiculous. Opening her eyes, Jillian gave her head a little shake to clear it of the fanciful questions. But as luck would have it, the first person she focused on was the tall, lanky piece of eye candy. Evidently he’d changed his mind about visiting the pier, and he was now directly across the street from her.

As she watched those long legs eat up the sidewalk, her heart gave another little thud, and flames licked along her nerve endings.

He didn’t even glance in her direction.

Good. Because she had better things to do than deal with adolescent fantasies. Or gawk at a man she’d never really met. And didn’t want to meet.

Liar, said a little voice in her head.

Molly’s boutique, she reminded herself as she sprang up from the planter. That had been her destination before Mr. Hunk had come into her range of vision and rudely interrupted her. Turning, she headed toward the corner. Molly probably couldn’t get away to see her new store. But she was always a good listener.

Jillian couldn’t help but stop to admire the window display at Discoveries. Color was everywhere—from the pile of lacy lingerie to the brightly hued sundresses that hung from hangers against a sky-blue backdrop. Molly changed the merchandise frequently, Jillian knew. And it worked. It was just one more marketing technique that she was going to have to talk to her friend about.

Stepping through the front door, she spotted Molly immediately. The petite brunette was standing with a customer in front of the full-length mirrors toward the center of the store. Not wanting to interrupt, Jillian busied herself with one of her favorite pastimes, browsing.

It always amazed her just how much product Molly packed into the space without making it seem overcrowded. The clothing racks that in other stores might offer dresses or pants in a variety of sizes here offered “outfits” complete with shoes, hats, handbags and jewelry. Out of the corner of her eye, she kept track of Molly’s progress with the elderly woman who was carefully inspecting her image in the mirror.

“What do you think, Miss Emmy Lou?” Molly asked. “I like the color on you.”

“You don’t think it’s too young?” the older woman asked.

Tricky question, Jillian thought. Miss Emmy Lou looked to be in her sixties.

“Not a bit,” Molly said. “It’s a classic style—a shirt-dress—ageless. My grandmother use to wear a shirtdress to church on Sundays and she had a couple of decades on you.”

Miss Emmy Lou laughed. “Your grandmother was four years ahead of me all through elementary school.”

Molly placed the flat of her hand against the side of her head. “Right. I must have been thinking about my great-grandmother.”

Miss Emmy Lou turned to face her. “You were thinking of making a sale. Your grandmother would be proud of you.”

Molly cocked her head to one side. “Sale aside, the dress suits you.”

Miss Emmy Lou flicked a glance in the mirror. “Yes, I think it does. But the shoes …?”

“Fisherman’s sandals—another ageless style.” It was just then that Molly caught sight of Jillian and said, “Jillian, come over here and offer my customer an objective opinion.”

Jillian smiled at her friend and found herself enveloped in a quick, warm hug, before they turned to face Miss Emmy Lou.

Molly made the introduction. “Miss Emmy Lou runs our local library around the corner on Whipple Street.”

The older woman held out her hand. “And you must be one of the sisters who’ve breathed some new life into this little village. I read your interview in the Belle Island Weekly Examiner a few weeks ago. Glad to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Jillian found the older woman’s handshake firm and her smile genuine.

“I also heard you bought the Kellys’ bookstore so they could finally retire. They’ve been talking about doing it for the last ten years.”

“I did. In fact, I closed on it today.” She lifted her hand, opened it. “I have the key right here and I was hoping to persuade Molly to take a half hour off and let me give her a tour.”

Miss Emmy Lou glanced around the shop. “I seem to be the only customer, so let’s see if we can hurry this along.” There was a twinkle in her eyes as she met Jillian’s. “What’s your verdict on this outfit?”

“I’d take the dress and the shoes. Molly has a knack for putting things together,” Jillian said.

“My childhood dream was to dress the stars for the red carpet,” Molly told them.

Emmy Lou laughed. “Red carpet, eh? Well, that just might make my day. I’ll take both.”

“It’ll just take me a minute to wrap them up.”

“No need. If it’s such a classic and suits me so well, I’m going to wear it out of the store. You can just pack up what I wore in.”

As Molly hurried to do that, Jillian turned to Emmy Lou. “Would you like to come with us?”

“Love to. We librarians are born nosey. I hear you’ve done a snap-bang job up at Haworth House, and I’d love to know what you have in mind for the bookstore.”