Chesapeake Blue (Chesapeake Bay Saga 4) - Page 40

  Dan handed it over.

  Will slurped, gulped. Seth waited for him to just dunk his head in the oversized cup and lap with his tongue. "Okay, what was the question?"

  Seth fisted a hand at his side, imagined his rage inside it. Trapped and controlled. "The woman you saw in Dru's shop."

  "Yeah, right." Will yawned again, tried to concentrate. "Something about her weirded me out. Dressed like she should've been working a corner in Baltimore. Not that I'd know anything about that," he added with a cherubic smile. "Bleached, bony, blond. What my dad would call shopworn. Diagnosis from a quick visual would be serious alcohol abuse, along with some recreational chemicals. Bad tone to her skin. Liver damage, probably."

  "How old?" Seth demanded.

  "Running toward fifty, but hard years. Could've been younger. Serious smoker's rasp, too. She leaves her body to science, we ain't getting much out of it."

  "Yeah." Seth sat heavily on the side of the bed.

  "Like I told Dru, there was something familiar about her. Couldn't place it. Maybe it was just the type. Hard, edgy, sort of, I dunno, predatory. What? Did she come back and hassle Dru? I'd've hung around if I'd thought…"

  Then his jaw dropped as the picture fell into place. "Oh shit. Jesus Christ on a crutch. Gloria DeLauter."

  Seth pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead. "Fuck me."

  "Wait a minute, wait a minute." Dan held up both hands. "You're saying Gloria DeLauter was in Dru's flower shop? Yesterday? That can't be. She's gone, she's been gone for years."

  "It was her," Will stated. "It didn't click until just now. We only saw her that one time," he said to Dan, "but it's a pretty strong memory. Her yelling and trying to get Seth in that car. Sybill knocking her down, Foolish snarling like he was going to take a chunk out of her. She's changed, but not that much."

  "No." Seth dropped his hands. "Not that much."

  "What the hell's she doing back here?" Will demanded. "You're not a kid now. She can't try to drag you off so she can squeeze your brothers for ransom or some shit. She can't be looking for a sloppy mother-son reunion, so what's the point?"

  "Will's a little slow," Dan commented, "especially when it comes to the dark side. Money would be the point, right, Seth? Our pal here's a successful artist, climbing up the shiny ladder of fame and fortune. Whatever hole she's been in, she'd have heard about it. Now she's back wanting her cut of the profits."

  "That covers most of it," Seth grumbled.

  "I still don't get it." Will shoved at his hair. "You don't owe her a damn thing. She's got nothing on you."

  "I've been paying her for years."

  "Aw hell, Seth."

  "She just kept popping up. I gave her money so she'd go away again. Stupid, but I couldn't see what else to do to keep her from hassling my family. They'd gotten the business off the ground, and the kids were coming along. I didn't want her making trouble for them."

  "They don't know?" Will asked.

  "No, I never told anybody." He'd put it inside, in the place he tried to keep locked away from what his life had become. "She tracked me down in Rome a few months ago. That's when I figured there wasn't any point in me being three thousand miles away. I wanted to come home. She hit me up again about a week ago. Usually she backs off for longer. A year or two. I thought I'd bought some time. But if she went into Dru's shop, it wasn't because she wanted to buy some fucking daisies."

  "What do you want us to do?" Dan asked him.

  "Nothing you can do. Just keep a lid on this until I figure it out. Meanwhile, I'll wait. See what she does next."

  BUT HE COULDN'T just wait. He spent hours driving to hotels, motels, B and B's trying to find her, without a clue what he'd do if and when he did.

  He started the search with more fury than plan, thinking only that he needed to confront her, to drive her off by whatever means necessary. But as he drove to and from hotels, he began to cool off. He began to think as she thought. Coldly.

  If she thought Dru mattered to him, she would be used. Tool, weapon, victim. Very likely all three. If and when he found her, he would need to take care to paint his relationship with Dru as a casual one. Even a callous one.

  If there was one thing Gloria understood, even respected, it was using someone else. Using anyone else for your own purposes.

  As long as she thought he was using Dru for sex and studio space, Dru would be safe.

  Then at least one person he cared about wouldn't be smeared with Gloria's brush.

  He was forty miles outside of St. Christopher before he found an answer.

  The motel boasted a pool, cable TV and family suites. The desk clerk was young and perky enough to make Seth decide she'd been hired as summer help.

  He leaned on the counter, spoke in a friendly manner. "Hi. How's it going?"

  "Just fine, thanks. Will you be checking in?"

  "No, I'm here to see a friend. Gloria DeLauter?"

  "DeLauter. One moment, please." She caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she began to tap her keyboard. "Um, could you spell the last name?"

  "Sure."

  When he had, she tapped again, then looked up apologetically. "I'm sorry. There's no DeLauter registered."

  "Huh. Oh, you know what, she might've registered under Harrow. That's the name she uses for business."

  "Gloria Harrow?" She went back to the keyboard, then frowned. "I'm afraid Miss Harrow checked out."

  "She checked out?" Seth straightened, did everything he could to keep his tone mild. "When?"

  "Just this morning. I checked her out myself."

  "That's weird. Blond? Thin? About this tall." He held up a hand to estimate.

  "Yes, that's right."

  "Well, hell, I must've messed up the dates. Thanks." He started out, then turned back casually. "She didn't mention heading down to Saint Christopher, did she?"

  "No. Seems to me she headed out the other way. Gosh, I hope nothing's wrong."

  "Just a mix-up," he said and let himself feel a cautious trickle of relief. "Thanks for your help."

  HE TOLD HIMSELF she was gone. She'd taken the ten thousand and split. She'd checked out Dru, and that was worrying, but Seth imagined Gloria had, once she'd met her, dismissed the idea of him and Dru having any sort of serious relationship she could exploit.

  The fact was, he was far from sure where he stood with Dru himself.

  She wasn't the type who wore her heart on her sleeve, he thought. Or anywhere else he could get a good look at it. And wasn't part of his fascination with her the very fact that she was so contained?

  At least it had been; interest and attraction had melded into something a great deal stronger.

  Now he wanted more.

  One way he used to see into people was by painting them.

  He knew she was far from sold on the idea of posing for him again—particularly in the way he had in mind. But he set up his studio on Sunday morning as if she were in enthusiastic agreement.

  "Why won't you just take money for the painting?"

  "I don't want money." He arranged the sheets on the bed, ones he'd borrowed from Phil afte

r a raid on his brother's linen closet.

  The material was soft, would drape fluidly. And their color, the palest honeysuckle, would be perfect against the bold red of the rose petals and the delicate white of Dru's skin.

  He wanted that mix of tones and moods—warm, hot, cool—because she was all of them.

  "That's the point of selling your work, isn't it?" She clutched her robe closed at the throat and cast uneasy glances at the bed. "To make money?"

  "I don't paint for money. That's a handy by-product, and I leave it to my rep."

  "I'm not a model."

  "I don't want a model either." Dissatisfied, he shoved, dragged, pushed, until he'd changed the angle and position of the bed. "Professionals can give you a terrific study. But I find using regular people gives me more. Besides, I can't use anyone but you for this work."

  "Why?"

  "Because it's you."

  She hissed between her teeth as he opened the first bag of petals. "What does that mean?"

  "I see you." He tossed petals on the sheets in seemingly random patterns. "Just relax and leave it to me."

  "I can't possibly relax when I'm lying naked on a bed strewn with rose petals and you're staring at me."

  "Sure you can." He added more petals, stepped back, considered.

  "We made love on that bed a few hours ago."

  "Exactly." Now he looked at her, smiled. "It'd help if you thought about that when I'm working."

  "Oh, did you have sex with me to put me in the right mood?"

  "No, I had sex with you because I can't seem to get enough of you. But the mood's another handy by-product."