It was half an hour later when he returned. He’d showered, shaved, and changed into an elegant black suit. Holly was with him, looking stunning in red silk and none the worse for wear despite her ordeal. Maggie had changed into the black jumpsuit Holly had foisted upon her, and while she knew she looked good, even ten pounds underweight with circles under her eyes, she had long ago accepted the fact that she couldn’t compare with Holly’s dazzling beauty. It was damned hard to feel pretty and feminine when you stood close to six feet tall in your stocking feet, but somehow Holly managed it, while the best Maggie felt she achieved was a statuesque grace. Never before had she minded, not until Holly walked in beside Randall looking like she belonged there.
Jealousy was an ugly emotion. It was even uglier when there was no cause for it. She didn’t care about Randall, and even if she did, she knew perfectly well that Holly didn’t want him and Randall didn’t want her. So why was she sitting there glaring at the two of them like a child who hadn’t been invited to a birthday party?
“That jumpsuit looks fabulous on you, Maggie,” Holly announced. “I knew it would. Do you want to borrow my diamonds?”
“Your diamonds?” Maggie echoed faintly. “Why in God’s name did you bring diamonds along when we’re chasing after a murderer?”
Holly shrugged. “For the same reason I started out with twelve suitcases. One must keep up one’s standards, you know.”
“I don’t think Ian would agree.”
The light mood darkened a bit, as all three of them remembered where they’d last seen Ian. “You think he’ll be all right?” Holly asked suddenly.
“I’m sure he will.” Randall’s voice was warm and comforting. He never used that tone on her, Maggie thought, and then mentally slapped herself.
“Ian can take care of himself,” she said.
“Let’s hope so. Shall we go, ladies?”
Maggie opened her mouth to snap at him, then shut it again. It was Christmas and the least she could do was put a guard on her tongue for the next thirty-six hours. “Let’s go.”
Signor Tonetti’s great-niece was still at the desk as the three of them headed for the front door and the tiny square beyond. “Signorina Maggie Bennett? Your call has come through.”
Maggie stopped dead, and she stared up at Randall’s bland face in fulminating rage. “I’ve changed my mind,” she said in a grim voice. “I don’t wish to place the call.”
“Signorina, your party is on the line.”
There was no choice. Holly was looking confused, not a party to Randall’s high-handed deception. Slowly Maggie crossed the lobby, picking up the phone held out to her.
“Happy Christmas, darling.” There was no mistaking Sybil’s voice, even in its weak condition, no mistaking the typically British greeting that her mother had clung to during all her years in Hollywood.
“Mother?” Maggie’s voice was thick with tears.
“She’s too weak to talk much, Maggie.” Kate’s businesslike voice came on the line. “She came out of the coma yesterday afternoon. We tried to call but we couldn’t get through. She’s going to be all right. The doctors say she’s got a long road ahead of her, but she’s a fighter.”
“I know,” Maggie whispered. Randall had come up behind her—she could feel his body warmth through her back. Without thinking, without hesitation she leaned back against him, seeking his heat, and his hands rested lightly on her shoulders in a reassuring touch.
“Why don’t you let the police find Flynn?” Kate continued. “Come home, both of you. There’s no sense in putting yourselves in danger.”
“We can’t,” she said, wishing to God they could catch the next plane back to the States. “Now more than ever we have to find him.”
“But why?”
“Flynn doesn’t leave witnesses. If he finds out Mother’s regained consciousness he’ll come back to finish her off.”
“How do you know that?” Kate, ever-practical, demanded.
“I know. Merry Christmas, Katie. Give everyone our love.”
“For God’s sake take care of yourselves. We almost lost Sybil—we don’t want to lose you. We Bennetts have to stick together.”
“We’ll be fine. Tell Sybil she’ll get Flynn’s head on a platter. With tinsel in his ears and an apple in his mouth.”
Kate’s laugh was a forced one. “Be careful.”
Maggie held out the phone to Holly. “Speak to Kate,” she said, and then turned to face Randall.
He was looking down at her, and for a moment she had the oddest sensation. She was looking at a man who loved her, loved her as much as Mack had, in his own way. A man who loved her as she needed to be loved. And a man she loved in return, just as desperately, whether she wanted to or not.