“I’ve known Jeremy since I was just a kid,” Blake finally replied. “He was just getting started, working as an apprentice for an illusionist named Renaldo Ciccione. Renaldo was a friend of my father’s.”
“I taught Blake how to juggle,” Jeremy boasted.
“My mother taught me how to juggle,” Blake corrected him. “You merely improved on my technique.”
There were many more questions Tara wanted to ask. About his parents—what they’d done, how they’d died. About Blake’s past—who had taken him in when he’d been orphaned, how he’d ended up as a private investigator.
Blake looked at her, and she knew he saw the questions in her eyes. “Later,” he mouthed.
She nodded and turned back to Jeremy. “Tell me more about your wife and children,” she suggested, a topic he took up without hesitation.
She was beginning to believe that Blake had invited Jeremy to dinner as much to avoid being alone with her and her questions as to share his friend’s company. And his continued reticence hurt, especially considering the night they’d spent in each other’s arms.
BLAKE UNLOCKED the door to Stephanie’s condo later that evening and then stood aside to allow Tara to go in ahead of him. She seemed to take care not to touch him as she passed. She immediately turned on the overhead lights when she entered, dispelling the romantic glow of the full moon pouring through the glass wall of the living room.
“Stephanie won’t be spending the night here?” she asked without looking at him.
“No. She’s spending a lot of time with her boyfriend these days. He’s a doctor of some sort I think they’re talking marriage.”
“Have you met him?”
/> “Mmm. Nice guy. I think he and Steph will be happy together. She’s always wanted kids, and she’s not getting any younger. It’s time she settled down and quit running all over the world modeling and working with Jeremy.”
“She can still work and have children. Jeremy does.”
“But Jeremy’s wife is content to stay home and take care of their kids when he’s out on tour. In fact, she says there’s nothing she would rather do. Stephanie’s boyfriend works long hours in his medical practice. Someone will have to stay home to raise those kids, and it’s probably going to be Stephanie. She told me it’s what she wants. She’s tired of being on the road.”
“And what about you, Blake?” Tara turned to face him then. “Don’t you ever want to settle down? Do you ever get tired of being on the road?”
He sighed, and this time he was the one who looked away. But he answered honestly. “It’s all I’ve done for so long that it’s the only way I know how to live.”
“I suppose it’s a relatively easy existence. No ties, no commitments, no sticky emotional attachments. You don’t even claim your own sister most of the time.”
The edge in her voice piqued him. “That’s hardly fair. You don’t really know enough about my life to judge it.”
“No, I don’t, do I?” Sounding as though she felt she’d scored another point, Tara turned her back to him. She stood looking out the window at the river beyond, her arms crossed over her chest, her expression distant, pensive.
Remembering how her face had glowed with enthusiasm when he’d rejoined her at the theater earlier, Blake wondered what had abruptly changed her mood. “Tara? Are you upset? Have I said or done something wrong?”
“I’m fine.”
“Obviously you aren’t.” He risked taking a step closer, though something in her stance warned him not to touch her just yet. “What’s wrong? You seemed to be having such a good time with Jeremy and his assistants.”
“A good time? Did I seem to be having a good time, Blake?”
He reached out to place his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
She lifted her chin and looked defiantly at him. “Two weeks ago, I lost a job I’d been working toward my entire life. A little over seventy-two hours ago, a man died at my feet. Someone tried to shoot us. Someone invaded my apartment. You tell me that we’re going to break into the home of one of the most powerful men in the state to find evidence that he has committed insurance fraud, that he might be behind the murder in the gallery. We’ll probably be arrested—if, that is, we don’t get shot like poor Mr. Botkin. Oh, yes, Blake, I’m having a very good time.”
Guilt crashed through him, nearly prompting him into making rash promises that he had to bite back with an effort. He knew in that moment that he would have offered her anything she wanted—his very life, if necessary.
He loved her. There was no reason to continue to deny it. Calling it by any other name didn’t change the truth. He was in love with her, and he had been for quite some time. And look what he had done to her, . what he had no choice but to continue to do to her for another few days.
How much more proof did he need that he was all wrong for her?
He tugged her into his arms. She didn’t resist, but buried her face in his shoulder for a moment. And then she drew a deep breath and lifted her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t take my frustration out on you.”
He spoke forcefully, guilt weighing even more heavily on him. “You have no reason to apologize. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”