Confessions of the Heart

Then, on the same day she came home from the hospital, she received a call from Tom Bellows. He’d discovered the identity of her donor. Her name was Katherine Sprague, a thirty-nine-year-old author and teacher who’d died of a gunshot wound to the head, leaving behind a daughter, a husband and a sister, all of whom still lived in San Miguel, a small town about thirty miles south of San Antonio.

But even more distressing than hearing about the family Katherine Sprague had left behind was the news of how she’d died. She’d put a gun to her head and pulled the trigger. Anna was alive because of another woman’s utter despair.

Over the next few days, Katherine Sprague’s suicide continued to haunt Anna. For hours on end, she pored over the notes Tom had faxed her regarding his investigation. She ordered all of Katherine Sprague’s novels and read each of them in one sitting. She scoured the Internet for every scrap of information she could find. The research gave her something to focus on other than her own health problems and Michael’s death. It gave her a purpose, a mission. It gave her a mountain.

But Anna also knew that her natural curiosity and interest in her donor’s life was quickly becoming an obsession. She couldn’t put Katherine’s death to rest no matter how hard she tried.

And so she’d decided to come to San Miguel. Not to confront Katherine’s family with the reality of her transplant, but to, in some subtle way, touch Katherine’s life the way she’d touched Anna’s.

She shivered despite the intense heat. She’d never particularly believed in destiny or fate, but she couldn’t deny the connection she felt to the dead woman, or the strange pull she experienced as she stared up at Katherine Sprague’s sprawling Romanesque-style mansion with its arched windows and towering palm trees.

Located on the edge of town, the house was perched atop a small hill that provided a sweeping view of the San Miguel River. The spacious grounds were lush and colorful, but even with the exotic ambience—or maybe because of it—the mansion had a brooding quality, a faint air of isolation even though the nearest neighbor was just down the street.

There was something about that house…

Anna could almost feel the whisper of its secrets along her backbone.

Before she lost her nerve, she hurried up the paved walkway, climbed the steps to the wide stone veranda, and rang the front doorbell. Perspiration dampened her blouse as she waited for her first encounter with Katherine’s family.

A man answered the door. He was tall and well built, with broad shoulders, dark hair and piercing gray eyes that seemed to gaze at Anna with more than a fair amount of suspicion.

But the impression might simply have been her own conscience, she decided, trying to calm her nerves.

He was dressed in dark clothing that provided very little contrast to the deep shadows in the hallway behind him. For a moment, he appeared little more than a shadow himself.

Except for those eyes…

Anna’s breath quickened, and she experienced an odd sense of déjà vu as she gazed up at him.

Then the moment was over as he inquired impatiently, “Yes?”

Anna cleared her throat. “I’m—my name is Anna Sebastian. I’m here to see Gwen Draven. I believe she’s expecting me.”

“She lives in one of the guest cottages around back, but she’s not there.” His tone was blunt, still impatient. Not the least bit inviting. “She said something about running an errand. I guess she forgot she had an appointment.” His gaze swept over her, and Anna winced inwardly at what he must see. A woman who, at thirty-four, should have been in the prime of her life, but instead was too thin, too pale, too fragile-looking to be considered attractive.

She’d pulled her blond hair back in the same French twist she’d worn for ages, a style that had once made her look cool and sophisticated, she’d been told. Now the severe fashion only highlighted her gauntness. Her eyes were shadowed underneath, and some of the medications made her hands tremble. At least, she tried to convince herself that was the reason for her sudden nervousness.

The man’s gaze moved back up to her face. There was something in his eyes, an emotion she couldn’t quite define, that spiked Anna’s adrenaline to a dangerous level, leaving her a little light-headed.

She put a hand on the doorframe for support.

“Are you all right?” he asked with a scowl. “You don’t look well.”

“It’s the heat—” She broke off as he shifted his position in the doorway, and a shaft of light fell across his face. For the first time Anna saw the scar, and her adrenaline surged once again, causing her heart to pound uncomfortably.

She knew him! He was the man from the elevator, the one who had captured her attention that day in the Chase Tower. The man she’d dreamed about so intimately…

Oh, my God!

Anna tried not to stare, but she couldn’t help herself. Finding him here, in Katherine Sprague’s house, jolted her.

“Maybe you’d better come inside and wait for Gwen.” His tone had warmed slightly even though Anna knew he’d been aware of her reaction. And he undoubtedly thought it was because of his appearance.

“I—I don’t want to impose.” Anna was stunned to find herself stammering. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so disconcerted.

“And I don’t want you passing out on my doorstep.” He stepped back and motioned her inside. “We can hear Gwen’s car in the drive when she gets home. Come in,” he insisted when Anna still hesitated. “I won’t bite.” And then, as she moved past him, she could have sworn she heard him mutter, “Not before sundown anyway.”

Anna waited in the dim, cool hallway as he closed the door, and then she followed him into a large living area off to the right. The room was done in autumn tones of browns and greens with an occasional splash of red thrown in for contrast. Strange wooden masks lined the walls, adding to the exotic flavor of the décor, as did the dramatic touches of animal prints in plush throws and pillows. The furniture and floors were a gleaming mahogany, but the plastered walls, high-beamed ceilings, and filtered light from a row of shuttered French doors kept it just short of oppressive. Anna actually found it cool and restful after the blistering heat of outdoors.

“My name is Ben Porter.” He motioned her toward a seat. “I’m Gwen’s brother-in-law.”

“How do you do?” Anna recognized his name from Tom’s research. He was an ex-cop who’d married Katherine Sprague just a few months before she died.

Anna wanted to believe her reaction to the man had everything to do with the rather bizarre coincidence of finding him here, but even that day in the elevator, when he’d barely glanced in her direction, he’d sparked something inside her. She’d told herself the scar on his face had drawn her attention, aroused her curiosity, but she wondered suddenly if it was something more.

And this house.

It was dark and foreboding, with its heavy furniture and shuttered windows, and yet there was something enticing about it just the same. Some mysterious pull that made Anna want to explore all of its deep, dark secrets.

Her gaze flickered back to Ben Porter. She suspected he had his own secrets, and she couldn’t help wondering what it would take to unmask them. A kiss?

Almost against her will, she lifted fingertips to lips that were unexpectedly tingling. She knew, suddenly, what it would feel like to be kissed by this man. She knew his touch, his scent….

He’d haunted her dreams. So how could he possibly be a stranger?

A deep awareness flooded through Anna, and she trembled. She had Katherine’s heart. Did she also have some of her memories?

No, of course not! It wasn’t possible. A heart was just an organ. Tissue and muscle. It couldn’t retain memory. And yet…

Could it really be just a bizarre coincidence that she’d seen Ben Porter that day in the elevator, felt the impact of his presence, and now their paths had crossed yet again? Here, of all places…

His gaze turned quizzical. “Are you sure you’re okay? Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get you something cold to drink?”

“No, please don’t bother,” Anna managed to say. “I’ve already put you to too much trouble as it is.”

“By letting you come in out of the heat?” He shrugged. “That’s not a problem.”

“But I’m interrupting your afternoon. Maybe I should come back another time.”

“No need for that. Gwen should be home soon.” He gazed at her for a moment longer, and then turned toward the door. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”

Anna watched him disappear through the arched doorway, and then she turned, gazing around. An ornate bombé chest on the far side of the room held a ceramic vase of orchids and several antique picture frames. Anna walked over and studied the photographs, then reached out and picked up one. It was the same black-and-white shot of Katherine that had been used on the jacket cover of her books.

She’d been an extraordinarily beautiful woman. A statuesque brunette with wide, dark eyes and full, sensuous lips. A woman of passions…

As Anna studied the photograph, she gradually became aware of the faint tinkle of a piano from somewhere deep in the house. She lifted her head, listening, as the seemingly random notes melded into a melody.

Heart and Soul.

“We have fresh lemonade,” Ben said from the doorway.

Whether it was his voice or the music that violently startled her, Anna couldn’t say for sure. But she dropped the silver frame, and the glass shattered against the wood floor. She stared at it in horror. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.” She knelt quickly and began picking up the glass shards.

Ben set the drink aside and moved toward her. “Don’t bother with that. I’ll take care of it later.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I didn’t mean to frighten you.” His deep voice held a genuine note of regret.

“That music.” Anna’s hands were still trembling as she gazed up at him. “Do you hear it?”

He listened for a moment. “That’s my stepdaughter, Gabriella. She’s warming up for her piano lesson.” He knelt beside Anna and put his hand on her arm. “I’m serious. Don’t worry about the glass. I’ll clean it up later.”

A thrill snaked up Anna’s arm at his touch. Their gazes met, his eyes darkened, and her stomach fluttered with awareness.

She tore her gaze from his and glanced down at Katherine’s picture, which lay faceup beneath the fragments of glass. The woman’s expression seemed at once amused and accusing, and Anna noticed suddenly that a tiny drop of blood was smeared across her features. “Oh, no! I’ve ruined the picture.”

Ben shrugged. “There’re plenty more around the house. Katherine was never camera shy.” He reached out and took Anna’s hand in his. “You’ve cut yourself on the glass. Let me take a look.”

He turned her hand over and studied the tiny sliver on her thumb. “It’s just a scratch, but you’re still bleeding. Come on. I’ll get you a Band-Aid.”

“No, I’m fine—” The risk of infection was a constant concern since her transplant, and at any other time, Anna might have freaked about the cut. But now she was too distracted by the scars on Ben Porter’s right hand to worry about her own well-being. The scars were long and smooth and deep, like the one on his face. She gazed at them, feeling oddly stimulated by the sight.

He got up abruptly as if all too aware of her scrutiny. “Come on. The bathroom is this way.”

He led her down the hallway to a spacious powder room furnished in pink, gold and ivory. The décor in here was less exotic and utterly feminine, and Ben seemed overpoweringly masculine against the plush surroundings.

While he opened a gilded mirrored door and collected a box of Band-Aids and a bottle of antiseptic, Anna studied the chiseled line of his profile, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead, giving just a hint of vulnerability to an otherwise dark and brooding face. Shifting her gaze slightly, she saw that he was watching her watch him in the mirror.

A frown flickered across his brow, and Anna knew at once he thought she’d been staring at his scar. She hadn’t been. She hadn’t even noticed it.

It was his eyes that held her attention. Those lips…

The nerve endings connected to her heart had been severed during surgery. Her reaction to extreme emotion would be different from now on, Michael had warned her. So how was it possible that her new heart could pound so hard at Ben Porter’s mere presence?

He turned slowly to face her, his gaze deep, probing. “You seem familiar to me.” He searched her features, lifting a hand as if to smooth back her hair, but he didn’t touch her even though Anna wanted him to. More than anything. She suddenly ached for his touch. “Have we met before?” he asked in a puzzled voice.

She shook her head, unable to speak. Unable for a moment to even breathe. What was going on here? What was wrong with her? How could she react so strongly to a man she’d just met? How could she want him…when she knew nothing about him?

Something odd happened to her then. The bathroom disappeared, and Anna found herself gazing down into Ben’s smoldering eyes as her hair fell in a curtain around her face. They were in bed, naked, the covers twisted from their lovemaking, their skin shimmering in the afterglow. And he wanted her again. She could see it in his eyes. The passion. The longing. The desperation…

As if lost in the same vision, Ben grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to him, then tangled his fingers in her hair as he lowered his mouth to hers.

But just before their lips touched, Anna gasped and sprang back.

He stared down at her in shock. “My God,” he muttered. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. It’s just…” He ran a hand across his eyes, as if trying to clear away the vision. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “You probably think I’m some kind of pervert, grabbing you like that. But I swear I’m harmless.”

As harmless as a cobra, maybe.

A door slammed somewhere nearby, and he looked instantly relieved. “That must be Gwen. I’ll go tell her you’re here while you take care of that cut.” He backed toward the door as if he couldn’t get away from her fast enough, but he paused in the hallway, glancing at her anxiously. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

She lifted her chin. “Yes, I’m fine.” She listened to the house for a moment. “The music,” she said softly. “It’s stopped.”

Ben listened, too, and then shrugged. “Thank God for small mercies.” Then he turned on his heel and disappeared.

A YOUNG WOMAN stood arguing with Ben in the dim living room. When she saw Anna hovering in the doorway, however, her anger instantly disappeared and she smiled brilliantly. “You must be Anna. Ben was just telling me you were here. I’m Gwen. We spoke on the phone this morning.”

The first thing that struck Anna about Gwen Draven was her resemblance to her sister. She was a younger version of Katherine Sprague, but without the smoldering eyes, without the full, pouting lips and the hidden passions that, even in Katherine’s photographs, seemed to ooze from her every pore.

Gwen’s beauty was more subtle. And more wholesome somehow. She was only an inch or two taller than Anna and almost as slender, but where Katherine had exuded a steamy sexuality, Gwen radiated vitality. The line of tanned skin between her light blue top and her black low-rider jeans rippled with toned muscle.

Her hair was dark, shoulder-length and choppy, and when she carelessly pushed it back, the glossy strands fell perfectly back into place. She seemed the very epitome of youth, health and beauty, and yet when she approached Anna to offer her hand, there was a glimmer of uncertainty in her hazel eyes.

“I apologize for being late,” she said. “I completely forgot you were coming.”

“No apology necessary. I’ve obviously come at a bad time.” Anna’s gaze shot to Ben’s before she glanced quickly away. It was disturbing seeing him now, a stranger again, when only moments ago… “I’m sorry for the intrusion.”

Gwen waved aside her protests. “Don’t be silly. My sister’s friends are always welcome here.”

Ben had moved slightly away from them, but out of the corner of her eye, Anna saw him whirl, as if something had caught him by surprise.

“You knew Katherine?” His tone sounded startled. “I assumed you were Gwen’s friend.”

“Gwen and I spoke on the phone this morning, but we’d never met until now.” Anna was suddenly experiencing an acute attack of conscience. She’d wanted to meet Katherine’s family, wanted to tell them without telling them what Katherine had done for her. To that end, she’d devised a cover, informing Gwen earlier that she’d gone to the University of Texas with Katherine and had only recently heard about her death.

It was a plausible enough story, Anna supposed. Through her research, she’d discovered they’d both attended UT, and even though Katherine had been in graduate school when Anna was a freshman, it was certainly possible their paths might have crossed at some point. But credible or not, Anna was finding the sham harder to pull off than she’d imagined. She didn’t like deceiving Katherine’s family. They deserved better from her.

But it was too late to change her plans now. Anna couldn’t just blurt out the truth. They didn’t deserve that from her, either. After all, if they’d wanted any contact with her, they would have responded to her letter.

Ben’s gaze was still on Anna, and her skin went hot and cold from the intensity of his stare. “I guess I jumped to conclusions when you said you were here to see Gwen,” he muttered.

“She and Katherine went to UT together,” Gwen explained. “Anna’s been ill and only just recently heard about Katherine’s death. She called this morning to see if she could stop by.” She turned to Anna, lifting a perfectly shaped brow for verification. “Did I get it right?”

She asked the question as if she suspected the story might be a fabrication. Or maybe her suspicions were a figment of Anna’s guilty conscience. She moistened her lips, all too aware of both Gwen and Ben’s scrutiny. “Yes.”

“Were you close?” The edge in his voice sent a chill up Anna’s spine.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You and Katherine. Were you close friends?”

She took a moment to formulate her response. “No, I can’t say that we were,” she said carefully. “But she had a very definite impact on my life.”

“How?” He was scowling now, obviously displeased, but Anna had no idea why. Because of what had almost happened between them in the bathroom?

“It’s…difficult to explain.”

He looked on the verge of challenging her for that explanation, difficult or not, but Gwen said smoothly, “A lot of people have said that about my sister. She had a special way of touching people’s lives. Our father used to say she was like the Pied Piper. Her devotees would follow her anywhere.”

“Exactly how well did you know her?” Ben persisted.

“For God’s sake, you sound as if you’re trying to interrogate the poor woman,” Gwen scolded. “Don’t pay him any attention, Anna. Once a cop, always a cop.” She took Anna’s arm. “Why don’t we sit down?”

She guided Anna to a sofa luxuriously upholstered in a deep green chenille. Tossing aside a leopard-print pillow, she drew her legs underneath her and turned to face Anna. Ben remained standing. He hovered near the windows where the filtered light cast him in an unnatural aura.

Anna watched him for a moment before tearing her gaze away. “I can’t stay long. I just wanted to stop by for a few moments.”

“You can’t go yet,” Gwen protested. “We never have company anymore. Sometimes I think I’ll go out of mind from boredom around here. We used to have people in and out of the house all the time, especially in the summer, when Katherine had her retreats here. Nowadays…well, it’s just not the same without her, is it, Ben?” There was the barest hint of mockery in her tone before she turned her attention back to Anna. “Anyway, you said on the phone you’re an attorney in Houston?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Did you and Katherine keep in touch after college?”

Anna paused. “No, not really.”

“Then you’d probably like to hear a little about her life.” Gwen smiled. “She was a tenured professor at the University of St. Agnes in San Antonio and the author of nine novels. Her books weren’t all that successful from a commercial standpoint, but they acquired a certain amount of critical acclaim, and over the years, she developed something of a cult following.”

“I’ve read her books and enjoyed them very much.” Anna was relieved that at last there was a ring of truth in her voice.

“Ben is a writer, too, you know. That’s how he and my sister met.”

He turned from the window with an impatient gesture. “I’m not a writer.”

“Yes, well, the only bestseller in this house has your name on it.” Was that a touch of resentment in Gwen’s voice?

Ben frowned. “That doesn’t make me a writer.”

“No,” Gwen agreed. “But it made you a lot of money, didn’t it? Not that you need it now,” she added under her breath. She glanced back at Anna. “He and Katherine met at one of Ben’s signings in Houston. It was at a little bookstore on South Main. Maybe you know it.”

“No need to bore her with the details,” Ben said dryly.

“Oh, don’t be silly. What woman doesn’t enjoy hearing a good love story? Especially one that involves love at first sight.” She gave Anna a sly smile. “Katherine used to go on and on about how their eyes met across the crowded bookstore…and then later, how they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. It was a real fairy-tale romance. My sister was a very lucky woman, Anna.”

So lucky she’d felt compelled to take her own life, Anna thought.

Ben’s mouth tightened as he glared at Gwen. “For God’s sake, do you have to do this in front of a stranger?”

Anna rose. “Perhaps I should go—”

Gwen grabbed her arm and pulled her back down on the sofa. “No, please. Don’t go yet. If Ben doesn’t want to talk about Katherine, we can change the subject. Perhaps he could tell you about his book. Now there’s an interesting topic.” Her eyes gleamed with something Anna couldn’t define and wasn’t sure she wanted to.

She said cautiously, “What’s it about?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ben said with a dismissive shrug.

“It’s about a serial killer.” Gwen gave him a smug smile, as if she enjoyed goading him. Anna had to wonder about their relationship. The two of them obviously didn’t get along, so why did they remain in such close proximity to one another? Why hadn’t Ben moved back to Houston after Katherine’s death? What kept him in San Miguel?

“You’re from Houston so you probably remember all those murders three summers ago that the police attributed to a killer they called Scorpio,” Gwen was saying.

Anna forced her attention back to the conversation. “Yes. As a matter of fact, a girl who worked in my building was one of the victims.”

Ben turned. “What was her name?” he asked sharply.

His tone took her by surprise. “I don’t remember. Renee something.”

“Renee Canard.” It wasn’t a question.

Anna nodded. “Yes, I think that was it. She was killed in a parking garage across the street from my office. I didn’t know her, but the police came and interviewed people in the building after her body was found.”

Gwen had been sitting quietly during this exchange, but now she said suddenly, “What a strange coincidence. Ben was probably one of the cops you saw that day. You two may have even spoken, and now here you are.”

Anna’s gaze went reluctantly back to Ben. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing as she, that maybe such a meeting, no matter how brief, was the reason they had this strange connection.

“The killer was never caught,” Gwen said. “Isn’t that right, Ben?”

He started toward the doorway, as if he’d had enough of the conversation. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

Gwen watched him leave, then turned back to Anna with a frown. “You’ll have to forgive Ben’s manners. He’s a little…abrupt at times.”