“That’s right,” Sweeny said when Zach’s eyes narrowed over the rim of his glass. “Witt Danvers couldn’t get it up, at least not very often. Not often enough to ensure him siring another child-fathering London. I checked, and it took a while, but I found out that your stepmother, while she was supposed to be visiting friends in Victoria, really ended up at a clinic in Seattle where she got herself artificially inseminated by a private donor.”
Zach’s head snapped up. “What are you saying?”
Sweeny grinned that evil, little smug grin as if glad that he’d finally got Zach’s attention. “I’m telling you that Adria Nash is London Danvers, but she’s not Witt Danvers’s kid, not technically-or biologically-speaking.”
The glass fell from Zach’s hand and Scotch splashed on the floor and the bottoms of his jeans. His head pounded.
“If she were alive, she’d still inherit it all, I suppose. It would take a team of lawyers to figure it out, but since she was the kid Witt was so crazy about, she’d still be his princess-heiress to it all, and since half your family is dead or behind bars, she’d get it. No doubt?”
“If she were alive,” Zach ground out, his lips barely moving.
“Yeah, well…nothin’ I can do about that.”
“You can substantiate this, I assume.”
“Of course. Records could be pulled-court-ordered, you know-and I found a nurse who’s willing to talk. It’s just a shame that London’s dead.”
Zach carried his bags down to the hotel lobby. He’d stayed in Portland longer than he’d planned. It had been over a week since he’d talked with Sweeny and the media was no longer laying siege to anything with the Danvers name. He was still wearing a cast, but he could walk and he wanted to get the hell out of town. He doubted that he’d ever come back.
It was time to move on.
On impulse, he left his bags by the lobby desk, then mounted the stairs to the ballroom, to the first place he’d seen her. He opened the doors, half expecting her to appear, but as he snapped on the lights, he found the room empty and cold and without a breath of life.
He was left only with memories, a bad ankle, and the sober realization that he’d never be the same.
“Fool,” he ground out, walking inside the huge room and letting the door swing shut behind him. He remembered London on the night she was kidnapped, how impish she’d been, how precocious. Well, she’d grown into one helluva woman. Adria in the black coat or the shimmery white gown, her eyes blue, her lips teasing-a little naughty and a little nice.
He felt dead inside.
But, he was a practical man. At least he always had been. Whether he liked it or not, he’d have to face the fact that she was gone, that he’d loved her, and that he’d never love again. It was probably all for the best. He wasn’t cut out for emotional entanglements. Again the hot tears stung his eyes and he swore at himself. He didn’t believe in grieving. It didn’t solve a thing.
Angry with himself, he switched off the lights and left the room. He would drive to Bend and then get so drunk Manny would have to drive him home, but he wouldn’t go looking for a woman. Not for a long, long time.
He had parked on the street and as he carried his bags outside he felt the pale heat of the winter sun filtering between the towering office complexes and past the leafless trees that had been planted in front of the hotel. Sunlight danced on the wet streets and he slipped a pair of shaded aviator glasses onto the bridge of his nose before he rounded the corner and stepped toward the Jeep, only to stop dead in his tracks.
She was there, one jean-clad hip propped against a fender, her eyes as blue as the sky, her witch-wild hair catching in the breeze. A vision.
“What the-”
“You gonna stand there all day with your mouth hanging open, or are you gonna take me home?” she said and her voice cut a slice right out of his heart.
“Adria-”
It couldn’t be!
His heart kicked into double time, but he wouldn’t believe the image. He couldn’t.
“Well, cowboy?”
His throat worked. He dropped his bags and took a step forward. With a laugh, she ran to him and threw herself into his arms. Telling himself that she was real, he held her as close as he could, letting the warmth of her body seep into his, ignoring the pain in his bad ankle. “But you’re-what happened?”
She kissed him with a passion that burned through his skin.
“I couldn’t stay away,” she said, her voice husky. “I tried.” Her face was serious now. “I dragged myself out of the river and told myself that the best thing for you was to think I was dead. I had enough money in my pockets to rent a cheap room and I even managed to buy a few clean clothes. I waited, trying to figure out how to get my car, my ID, and go back to Montana without you ever finding out.”
His jaw grew rock-hard. “You would let me think-”
“Shh.” She pressed a finger to his lips. “I still thought we were brother and sister and…well, then the story came out about Katherine and the fact that I wasn’t Witt’s biological daughter and I thought…” She smiled up at him, love glistening in her eyes. “Well, I thought we could do something about that.”
His voice was hoarse. “Why didn’t you come sooner-?”
“I wanted to be sure. And I didn’t want to come back as London Danvers,” she said, tossing her hair out of her face. “I found out that I like being Adria Nash, that I don’t need a birthright, nor any of the Danvers money.” Her throat worked and she lifted her chin, daring him to argue with her. “I’m back here because I love you, Zachary,” she said bravely. “I want to be with you. No strings attached.”
He regarded her for a heart-stopping moment and his lips slowly curved. “Well, how about that?” he said. “I’ve loved you from the first time I saw you and I’ve gone through hell and back for you. Believe me, there’ll be strings, lady, and plenty of ’em.” Grinning he lifted her from her feet, and, hobbling a bit, carried her into the hotel. She laughed that throaty laugh that made him tingle inside and her black hair nearly swept the ground. People turned and watched, eyebrows raised; women gasped as he shouldered open the front door of the Hotel Danvers and climbed the stairs to the ballroom. Zach hardly noticed.
Once inside the dark room, he dropped her to her feet and locked the door behind them. Taking her into his arms, he kissed her on the neck, brushing his lips over her soft skin. She wound her arms around his neck. “Now, Ms. Nash…let’s start over,” he suggested as he toyed with the top button of her blouse.
Adria smiled at the man she loved. She wound her arms around his neck and knew that she’d come searching for her past…a life of luxury and wealth, only to discover that love was the richest treasure of all. “And let’s not stop,” she suggested.
“Good idea.” He winked at her as her blouse parted. “This time, darlin’, we’re gonna take it real slow and do it right. Trust me.”
“I do, cowboy,” she swore. “I do!”
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed SEE HOW SHE DIES. Rewriting TREASURES into SEE HOW SHE DIES turned out to be a big task, but I think revisiting Adria and Zach was worth the effort! The storyline for it has always been one of my favorites. I hope you agree!
My next new novel for Zebra Books is DEEP FREEZE. If you like mystery/thrillers and romance, then you’re sure to love this one. Pick up a copy in March 2005! DEEP FREEZE is the story of Jenna Hughes, a harried single mother of two, who senses that someone is stalking her. It’s the coldest winter in fifty years in Oregon and with the first snowfall comes a cold certainty that someone is watching and waiting. Jenna fears for the lives of her two teenage daughters as well as for herself as a serial killer who calls himself The Ice Man begins to prowl and kill. As the days pass and the nights lengthen Jenna can trust no one, including Sheriff Shane Carter, a handsome but reclusive lawman. The Ice Man has his sights set on Jenna and her family as the frigid winter becomes her enemy.
DEEP FREEZE will certainly make your blood run cold. For an excerpt of the story, just turn the page!
Meanwhile, be certain to visit
