All She Ever Wanted (8 page)

"This is beautiful," Natalie murmured. "Is Laura here?"

"She must be here somewhere, although I don't know why she didn't get the damn door." Drew moved toward the entry and yelled up the stairs for Laura, but there was no answer. "I'll be right back."

Natalie sat down on the couch while Cole perused the photographs on the mantel. They could hear Drew yelling for Laura, but she wasn't yelling back. A moment later he reappeared, an irritated look on his face. "I guess she went out with the girls. So, what can I do for you?"

"I ran into Laura yesterday. She didn't tell you?" Natalie asked.

"No, but we've both been moving in opposite directions this weekend. In fact, I have to take off on a business trip shortly." He made a point of checking his watch.

Natalie glanced at Cole, wondering why he wasn't leading the conversation. Hadn't it been his idea to talk to Drew? When the silence between them lengthened, she said, "That's too bad. We thought we could talk about old times. Catch up."

"I usually save those conversations for reunions." Drew frowned. "What are you doing here, Natalie? You took off without saying good-bye to anyone years ago. Why come back now? What do you want?"

"I said good-bye." She was surprised by the animosity in his voice.

"You deserted Laura. She cried for days after you left," Drew continued, a harsh note in his voice. "She doesn't need you in her life now. Maybe she was too polite to tell you that, but—"

"You're not," Cole interjected.

"No, I'm not. Look, Parish, I don't have anything against you, but I'm busy and I don't have time to rehash the past."

Natalie stared at him for a long minute, trying to read between the lines, but Drew wasn't giving anything away. "I'm sorry we bothered you," she said as she got to her feet.

"Hang on a second, Natalie," Cole said. "I have a couple of questions for you, McKinney."

"About what?"

"My sister's death. It has been brought to my attention recently that Emily's death might not have been an accident."

"Who would suggest that?"

"The author of a best-selling novel. Maybe you've heard of it."

"I've heard of it," Drew admitted with a tightening of his lips.

"Do you remember seeing Emily the night she died?" Cole asked. "Did you talk to her? Share a drink with her?"

"I didn't get her drunk, if that's what you're implying." Drew put his hands on his hips in a stance that was pure aggression.

Cole didn't back down. "Did you talk to her?"

"No, I didn't. It was crowded at the party. There were over a hundred people there. I told the police that when they questioned me along with everyone else who was present that night."

"So you weren't upstairs that night? You didn't hear Emily arguing with Natalie?"

"I didn't hear a thing. I told you—I wasn't upstairs."

"The author thinks Natalie pushed Emily off the roof. Do you?"

Drew shot Natalie a quick look. "Of course not. Emily fell. That's what happened. Although ... everyone knew Emily and Natalie were fighting over you. There were lots of rumors after you all left town."

"Where were you when she fell?" Cole asked. "If you don't mind."

"I do mind. I answered that question ten years ago. If you don't remember my answer, I'm sure you can put your hands on a police report. Now, if you don't mind ..." Drew walked into the entryway and opened the front door, leaving them no choice but to follow.

"If I find out you're responsible for this book, you will be sorry." Cole paused by the door. "No one messes with my family."

"No one messes with mine, either," Drew snapped back.

Natalie followed Cole onto the porch, wincing as the door slammed behind them. "That went well."

"I think we can add Drew to your growing fan club," Cole said as they walked out to the car.

"I don't remember him disliking me so much."

Cole unlocked the car door and held it open for her. "I found that interesting, too."

Natalie didn't like the sound of that. "Drew made you doubt me again, didn't he? Are you so easily swayed, Cole?"

"I make up my own mind after I look at all the facts."

"Of which there are few," she said, as she slid into the passenger seat. "Maybe we should talk to some of your friends. Emily spent time with Dylan Somerville. He might know something about what went on that night. And what about Josh?"

Cole didn't answer until he got into the car and closed the door. "I told you before that Josh and I were at Dylan's apartment that night."

"But Dylan wasn't with you." A brief image of Dylan walking down the hall at the sorority house flashed through her mind.

"What are you talking about?"

"I saw Dylan at the house. I just remembered that." She saw the skepticism in his eyes. "I did," she added defensively.

"That's convenient."

"It's probably because we've been spending so much time talking about the past. Things are starting to come back."

"Maybe some other things will come back, like where you were when Emily fell."

"Cole, you already said you didn't think—"

"I don't. Look, Natalie, Dylan and Josh were like brothers to Emily. There is no way in this world they would have hurt her. But I agree with one thing—we should talk to them, especially Dylan, since he lived in Santa Cruz. We'll stop at his club on our way back." He turned the key in the ignition and started the car.

"His club?"

"He runs a nightclub south of Market called Club V. It's a techno-magic club and very popular. I take it you haven't been there."

"No, I haven't. And what's techno-magic?"

"Virtual reality, technological illusions, and other cutting-edge magic tricks. He opened the club last year and has a line out the door most nights."

Dylan had always been into magic, Natalie remembered. He'd worked as a magician at a nightclub in Santa Cruz while they were in college. Emily had gone there a lot; she'd even worked as his assistant on occasion. The two of them had been very close. Personally, Natalie had never warmed to Dylan. He'd always played the man of mystery, riding up to the dorm on a motorcycle, dressed in black leather and dark glasses. She didn't remember him saying much of anything to anyone except Emily. That little fact had driven Madison crazy. Dylan Somerville was probably the only guy who hadn't taken one look at Madison and fallen in love. Which reminded her, they also needed to find Madison.

Madison glanced down at the paper in her hand, which listed the address for Club V. Located in a refurbished warehouse, the club was very unpretentious, one of those places that was known by word of mouth rather than by visible advertising. In fact, the only indication that this was in fact Club V was a small bronze sign on a solid black door. According to the Club V web site, the main club was open nightly for drinks, dinner, and shows of magic and illusion, with the virtual reality room also open on weekends beginning at one o'clock. She was a few minutes early, but maybe that would work in her favor. She could catch Dylan before the crowds came.

She put her hand on the door and hesitated, already having second thoughts. Dylan Somerville was one of the few people in her life she had not been able to figure out or control. It was doubtful he'd be receptive to her invitation to perform at the masquerade party and even more doubtful that he'd want to renew their old acquaintance. In fact, it was highly likely he'd blow her off as he'd done before, and she wasn't really in the mood for that.

The sudden wave of insecurity annoyed her. It reminded her of the early days of her childhood, before she'd gotten pretty and grown breasts. In those days, she'd been filled with doubts about herself, a lack of confidence borne from being the illegitimate daughter of an actor who refused to recognize her as his child. One of the many shrinks she had been to, at her mother's insistence, had told her that it was that failed relationship between child and biological father that fueled her need to succeed, to make everyone see that she was someone special, beautiful, and important. When she achieved that goal with a person or a job, she moved on, which was probably why she'd run out on two fiances, the last one only days before the wedding.

Frowning, she realized that's exactly what she was doing now, trying to impress Dylan Somerville, because, dammit, he'd never seen how great she was. She hated when the shrinks were right. But so what? This wasn't a big deal. There wasn't a woman alive who hadn't at one time felt the need to find the "guy who got away" and show him what he'd missed. And Dylan had missed a lot. She was even better now than she'd been at nineteen. She'd acquired sophistication over the past ten years, not to mention a better understanding of what men wanted. She could get Dylan—if she wanted to. That was still to be determined. He might have grown ugly in the last decade, gained weight, gone bald, sprouted a hairy mole on his face. Any number of things could have happened to him. She wouldn't know what unless she opened the damned door and walked inside.

Squaring her shoulders, she did just that, letting the heavy door swing silently shut behind her. The lobby was small, round, and dimly lit with dark wood paneling, thick black carpet on the floor, red leather benches that wound around the room, and a series of monitors along one wall that flashed with animations. A reception desk sat between two doors but was currently empty. Stepping farther into the room, Madison noted a wall full of newspaper and magazine clippings. Taking a closer look, she saw that Club V had been written up in a number of publications, including several articles in the Parish family newspaper. Trust Cole to take care of his good friend Dylan. She would have expected no less. The men had always been as close as brothers, although Madison had sometimes wondered if Cole had any idea that his best friend had a raging crush on his sister, Emily.

A door opened, and Madison caught her breath, not letting it out until she realized it wasn't Dylan, but a young woman approaching her. Wearing low-rise blue jeans and a clingy tank top, she came across as young and very hip, probably not more than twenty-one years old.

She offered Madison a smile and said, "I didn't realize anyone was out here yet. We don't officially open for a few more minutes, but I can get you set up. What are you looking for today? A trip down Niagara Falls, a walk across a tight wire under the big top, or a lap at the Indy 500? We offer virtual experiences for every fantasy."

"Really?" Madison wondered if she could purchase a fantasy that involved Dylan. She'd certainly had a few ideas over the years.

"Absolutely. What's your pleasure?"

"That's a loaded question."

The woman laughed. "I'm afraid all of our virtual adventures are rated PG-13."

"Actually I just want to speak to Dylan Somerville. Is he here?"

"I'm always here," a man said from behind her.

Madison whirled around, caught off guard by Dylan's unexpected appearance. She'd hoped to see him first, catch him by surprise, instead of the other way around. She should have known it wouldn't be that easy. Well, she wouldn't make it easy for him, either. She flashed him the smile that had won her legions of admirers and deliberately ran her gaze up and down his body.

Dressed in black leather pants and a black turtle-neck sweater, Dylan was all male. He was only of average height, but he was well built, broad shoulders, flat stomach, narrow hips, tight ass. And his face, all angles and planes, thick eyebrows and dark eyes, a long nose, full lips, and a sexy stubble darkening his jaw. All that marred his face was his expression, which was exactly the way she remembered it, irritated and grumpy. His mouth had always been set in a perpetual frown, at least when she'd tried to talk to him. The only person who had ever made him smile was Emily.

"What can I do for you?" Dylan asked.

Her jaw dropped at the casual question. He was acting like he didn't remember her. What the hell was wrong with him? No one forgot her. Ever.

"The question is—what can I do for you?" she replied, gathering herself together. "I've come to offer you a very special opportunity."

"I don't think I'm interested in whatever you're selling," he said briskly.

"You haven't heard what I'm selling."

"I have a pretty good idea." This time he was the one to run his gaze up and down her body. "You haven't changed a bit, Madison."

So he did remember her. She felt a foolish wave of relief, not that she intended to show it. "You haven't, either. You're still in a bad mood."

"So what's this opportunity you're offering?"

"I'd like to hire you to perform some of your magic tricks at a masquerade party benefiting charity. It's a very big deal. Everyone who is anyone in San Francisco will be there. It would be terrific exposure for you."

"I don't need exposure."

"Everyone needs exposure. Trust me. That's what I do for a living."

"You expose people?"

Was that a tiny smile playing around the curve of his mouth? Who could tell? "I'm in public relations," she explained. "I promote people and their businesses. I'm sure your club could use some publicity."

"We do all right."

"Is all right good enough?"

He considered that for a moment, then said, "What do you really want?"

"I just told you—"

"No. You had an agenda when you were nineteen, and I suspect you have one now. There are lots of magicians in this city. Why me?"

"You're cutting-edge, not old-school card tricks. Everyone is buzzing about your club. I think it would be great to bring some of your technological magic to my party," she said, thinking quickly. "It's a benefit for crippled children. Surely, you don't have anything against helping sick kids?"

"Nice try, but I'm not buying it."

"It's the truth. I need something different to set off my event from all the others, and you've always been different—bold, daring." She paused. "I know you never liked me, but surely you can put personal prejudice aside for your business." When he didn't reply, she pressed on. "Why don't you show me around while you're thinking about my invitation? I'd love to see what's behind those doors."