White Lies (The Arcane Society #2)(21)
Author: Jayne Ann Krentz

Beep, beep, beep. Whoop, whoop, whoop.

The SUV thundered past, missing by inches the front bumpers of the two cars that shielded her. It turned the corner at the far end of the aisle, tires squealing.

Clare waited, feeling like a cornered rabbit. What would she do if the SUV came back? Could she make it to the stairwell?

Mercifully, the hungry growl of the big engine faded. The SUV was heading for the exit.

Hands trembling, heart pounding, she looked for the fallen shopping bags and her purse.

The good news was that, although the dress had spilled out onto the concrete floor, it was still safely encased in its plastic sheath. The strapless bra she had bought to go with it was also safe. The shoes had tumbled out of the box but there was only a small mark on the left sandal.

She found her purse lying next to the front wheel of one of the cars that had given her shelter.

Collecting her belongings, she took a steadying breath and trudged toward the rental car. When she was safely behind the wheel she made certain the doors were securely locked. Then she sat quietly, waiting for her nerves to settle down.

It took a while before she felt calm enough to drive. She hadn’t experienced this kind of edgy shock and raw fear since that night six months ago when she went to Elizabeth’s house and found Brad’s body; the night she wondered if she had been the intended victim.

Chapter Eleven

The chauffeur eased the big car to a smooth stop in front of the house. Clare studied the expensive-looking residence through the window of the vehicle. The house had been done in the Spanish colonial villa style, complete with red tile roof, that was so popular in this part of the country.

An exquisite little thrill, part warning, part excitement, flashed through her.

“I assumed you were taking me to a restaurant to meet Mr. Salter,” she said to the driver. “This is a private residence.”

“It’s the address I was given,” the chauffeur said.

He climbed out and opened Clare’s door. She collected her purse and extricated herself from the dark interior of the vehicle.

She did a quick survey of her surroundings on her way to the front door. The house was one of a number of elegant, low-profile homes scattered about Stone Canyon. Unlike the Glazebrook house, which was situated on a golf course, this residence was surrounded by a lot of open, rolling desert.

The door opened before she could knock. Jake stood in the tiled entranceway. He was dressed in a pair of black trousers and a midnight blue shirt. The collar was open and the sleeves were rolled up on his forearms. He was not wearing his glasses, she noticed.

He examined her from head to toe, taking in the sleek, off-the-shoulder black dress and the high-heeled black patent sandals. Masculine approval and something she was pretty sure was sensual heat darkened his eyes. The excitement that had been stirring inside her intensified, stirring the hair on the nape of her neck.

“Great dress,” Jake said.

“Thanks. You’re lucky to see it in one piece.” She stepped into the hallway. “It nearly got run over in the parking garage at the mall where I bought it this afternoon.”

“Yeah?” He closed the door and turned to face her. “What happened?”

“Some fool driving a monster SUV either didn’t see me walking toward my car or else decided to play a game of chicken. I had to scramble to get out of his way. Dropped the shopping bags in the process. Fortunately nothing got damaged.”

His expression sharpened. “You’re all right?”

“Oh, yes. I’m fine. I was just a little shaken up, that’s all.”

“It was that close?”

“Certainly seemed like it at the time, although I may have exaggerated the incident in retrospect. I’ve got a creative imagination.”

“Get a look at the car?” he asked.

“Not really. It was big. Late model. Like every other vehicle in the garage it was sort of silvery gray.” She smiled. “Don’t worry about it, Jake. It was probably a teenager playing games or someone talking on the phone. Either way, no major harm was done.” The incident in the garage was the last thing she wanted to talk about tonight, she thought. She searched for another topic. “This is a nice place for a rental.”

He followed her gaze, taking in the tile floors, Mediterranean yellow walls and dark wooden beams as though he had not previously noticed them.

“It serves my purpose and it’s convenient to the Glazebrook offices,” he said. “Would you care for a glass of wine?”

“That sounds like a really terrific idea.”

“This way.”

He ushered her along the wide hallway that divided the living room and a library, through an arched opening and into a large kitchen that gleamed with a lot of modern, high-tech appliances.

Clare stopped short. “Wow. You could film a cooking show in here.”

He opened the door of a wine cooler and removed a bottle. “The kitchen was one of the reasons I chose the place.”

“You like to cook?”

He set the bottle on the large island in the center of the kitchen and went to work on the cork with an opener. “If I didn’t, I’d have to eat out or order in every night.”

“You could afford a housekeeper,” she pointed out.

“I like my privacy when I’m home. Besides, cooking is a form of relaxation for me.”

She walked forward slowly and came to a halt on the opposite side of the island. “I enjoy cooking, too. But when you live alone—”

“I know.” He set the cork down on the island. “Part of the pleasure of food is sharing it.”

He filled two glasses and handed one to her.

“To shared pleasures,” he said, tapping his glass lightly against hers.

She smiled. “To shared pleasures.”

She took a sip, savoring the crisp, elegant white. When she looked up she saw that Jake was watching her very intently. She was suddenly conscious of the intimacy of the situation. She was here, on his territory, drinking wine that he had poured for her. Why did that make her shiver ever so slightly?

He handed her his glass, breaking the small spell. “If you’ll take this outside for me, I’ll get the bruschetta.”

She carried his glass and hers through the open sliding glass doors. The wings of the house framed the pool and patio on three sides. On the fourth side a decorative wrought-iron fence and gate were all that stood between the house and the wildness of the desert landscape.

Jake followed her, carrying a wooden tray.