Lady Moonlight (6 page)

"Hey, wake up." He was at her side, opening the door and half lifting her out. "I'm ready for a swim. How about you?"

He swung open the ornamental wrought-iron gate, turned to the right and ushered her onto the patio.

She barely took in the outsize pool, tables shielded by tilted umbrellas, brightly cushioned chairs and lounges, and a beautifully tiled deck, as he hustled her to a dressing room.

"You'll find something in here to fit. Help yourself. And don't take all day."

She looked around curiously as he disappeared. If he intended to keep her off balance, he was doing a terrific job. Though obviously, for him, it was normal procedure to toss out orders and walk away. Frowning, she reached for a white maillot that looked small enough. It was. It had the additional advantage of looking terrific, she decided, turning to glimpse her backside in the mirror. But he was going to have to find someone else to order about, she thought, turning to the door. A little of that went a long way.

He met her as she closed the door. "Good. You're ready."

He held out a hand, and she automatically placed hers in it. The top of her head just hit his collarbone,

Kara noted. His skin was burnished to a deep tan, an all-over tan, she wagered mentally. She had the feeling that he spent a lot of time by the pool sans swim wear, that his brief, black suit was in deference to her presence. The dark, prickly hair that covered his arms was a furry mat on his chest. It tapered at his rib cage and stomach, and disappeared into the dark trunks. His long, muscular legs were liberally sprinkled with the same dark hair.

Enough, she told herself. He came on strong enough without any encouragement from her. It wasn't helping her cause to stand there goggling at him.

Tugging her closer, he draped an arm around her shoulders and steered her to the deep end. "You really are tiny, aren't you?" He hugged her lightly.

She shrugged. "Big enough for the important things in life. Besides, it's all relative. I don't feel small until someone like you towers over me."

He grinned and changed the subject. "How do you take your water? In inches, or one quick dive?"

Laughing, she admitted, "I've never done anything by inches. It's all or nothing."

They hit the water at the same time. Moving lazily at first, they broke into strong strokes, swimming laps.

Heading for the side, Dane lifted himself effortlessly and leaned over to pull Kara up. She tumbled against his chest with a yelp, and he held her close until she wiggled in protest.

Dane slowly lowered Kara until her feet touched the deck; then, with an ann around her shoulders, he led her to a wide, cushioned lounge. Settling her on one side, he walked around and eased down on the other with a satisfied sigh.

"Let's soak up some sun, and then I'll feed you."

Kara stiffened when he stretched his brawny length next to her. Their water-cooled bodies warmed as they lay, touching from shoulders to toes.

"Relax," he advised blandly. "I don't ordinarily warn before I pounce, but I might make an exception in your case. Right now, sun's on the schedule. Next, food. Later, we'll see."

Closing her eyes on the thought that they would, indeed, see, Kara slept.

Later, after a shower and the promised steak dinner, Dane gave her a tour of the front part of the house. It had a comfortable elegance, she decided, enjoying the panoramic view of the Pacific from the living room. Wondering if he had designed, built and/or decorated it himself, she opened her mouth to ask.

"Sit down and tell me about your orphans," Dane suggested before she could draw a breath.

She dropped down on an ivory sofa, nodding as he offered her a cup of coffee. "Tell you what about them?"

"Everything. How you found them. What they're like. How your friends manage the whole thing."

"You've already made it clear that you don't sympathize with my project. Why do you want to know?"

"I told you. Last week I thought you were a kid telling me a crazy story. I want to see if it sounds any different now."

"Okay. But no nasty comments." She put down her cup and turned to face him. "About eight months ago I went to Tijuana because I'd heard of a man who was an artist with wrought iron. I'm always on the lookout for things like that for the shop. Judy handles most of the business, and I do the scouting for artwork. You should see some of the artisans I've found. They're unbelievable. Metalwork, stained glass, pottery ...."

"The orphans," he reminded her.

"Oh. Well, anyway, I went down because Aunt Tillie wanted a wrought-iron stand for her plants. We couldn't find one the exact size, so we decided to have one custom-made. You might have noticed it on her patio. Up against the fence?"

"The orphans."

"So I decided if he did a good job on the plant stand, he just might be the answer to a little problem I was having at the shop. People were asking for customized ornamental wrought iron--everything from gates to bird cages-and I couldn't find anyone to ..."

"The ...."

"I know, orphans. Who's telling this, anyway? I'm getting to them. Juanito ... he's called that because he's so big; actually, it means little John-works in the iron shop. He speaks English, and the old man, the artist, doesn't. I don't have an ear for languages and, all told, I know about thirteen words of Spanish. None of them were helping. He came over to untangle the verbal mess the old man and I were in."

She eyed Dane's bland face suspiciously. "Are you laughing at me? I know I take a long time to get to the point, but the background is important. Anyway, while I was telling Serefino, the old man, what I wanted, and Juanito was interpreting, and Serefino was saying he could do it, a toddler wandered in from the back room and started crying. I picked her up, asked who she belonged to, and Serefino started waving his arms and talking."

She fell silent, and Dane watched her expressive face as she seemed lost in the memory.

Shaking her head, Kara continued. "Juanito seemed reluctant to translate, but I eventually learned that he and his wife had taken in several abandoned children. The word had spread through town, and it wasn't uncommon to find a child left for him at the door of the shop. The little girl had been there when they arrived that morning.

"I asked Juanito how many they had, and he said eight. Naturally, I wondered how he managed to take care of them, because the money situation down there is so tight. We talked for a while, and when he saw that I was really interested, he invited me home to meet his wife. I went, I saw and I was conquered."

"Naturally," Dane said dryly.

"The walls of their little two-room shack were bulging. They said that their dream was to buy an abandoned farm several miles out of town. They could have a large garden, and room for all the children. It was going for five hundred dollars, but to them, it might as well have been five thousand. I thought about it for a while; then I remembered the day at Del Mar when I picked all the winners. I told them what had happened, and we decided to try our luck."

"Naturally."

"The following Saturday I met them at Caliente. It worked, and we left with enough cash to buy the farm and get things started. I go down as often as I can with clothes and things. Juanito and Carmella are hard-working and proud. They don't ask for help unless it's an emergency. So when they ask, I help."

"Naturally."

"You really are annoying, you know that?"

The telephone rang. Dane stretched an arm to the table beside him and punched a button on an ivory box. Tillie's voice flowed into the room.

"Dane, dear, I hope I'm not interrupting something important, but Walter didn't want you to worry."

"How did you find my number?" he asked, well aware that his name didn't appear in any telephone listing.

". . . I didn't know it was lost," she replied in confusion.

Kara giggled, muffling the sound with her hand when he scowled at her.

"What can I do for you, Tillie?"

"No, dear," she reminded him briskly, "I called you, remember? Because Walter didn't want you to worry."

"What am I not supposed to worry about?" he asked blankly.

"Has anyone else called you tonight?"

"No."

"Oh, good. Timing is still an uncertain element in these things. They will."

"Who will?"

"Walter never tells me everything. That's what's so annoying at times. But it's not as if a hiatus hernia is terminal or anything, is it? Well, now that I've told you, we'll all rest easier tonight. Good-bye."

"Wait a minute, Tillie. At least tell me this. How did you know my telephone number? I'm not listed in the book."

"I never use a book," she said in gentle surprise. "I just pick up the phone and dial. Good night."

The dial tone and Kara's smothered giggle were the only sounds in the room as he once again poked the button.

"Is that woman going to drive me crazy with mysterious messages every day?" he asked.

"Only when Walter tells her to."

"And now she's going to get a good night's sleep while I wonder what the hell she's talking about."

"But you don't believe in that stuff," Kara reminded him, "so there's no need to worry. Right?"

"You fight dirty, don't you?"

"Sometimes that's the only way for us midgets."

The telephone rang again, interrupting possible mayhem. This time, when Dane punched the button, a woman's tear-filled voice spoke.

"Dane?"

"Mom? What's the matter?"

"Oh, Dane. I've been so frightened. Your father's in the hospital."

"Where are you? I'll be right there." His voice was curt.

"Los Angeles. We're here for the Brattons' anniversary celebration, remember? But everything's all right now. I just didn't want you to hear anything that would worry you."

Dane felt the hair on the back of his neck lift. Kara sat quietly.

"What happened?"

"We're staying with the Brattons. After the party this afternoon we took a nap. Your father woke up in agony. We thought he was having a heart attack, so we called the paramedics." Her voice broke. "I've never seen him like that. He's always been so strong. He went into shock. It was awful. They rushed us to the hospital, and we've been waiting all this time."

"Why didn't you call? You know I would have come."

"I know you would. I didn't know what to do. But now I'm glad I waited. The doctor just came out and talked to us. It wasn't a heart attack or anything life-threatening. The shock was the most dangerous part. He said he'll release Dad tomorrow. What he has is a hiatus hernia."

"Dane Logan? You're asking me who Dane Logan is?" Judy stared at Kara in disbelief across the width of the desk. They were sitting in the office at the rear of the shop. "You've been spending too much time with the ninos."

"The kids have nothing to do with it. Just tell me what you know about him."

"Let's put it this way. In a town that has millionaires crawling out of cupboards, he's still something special."

"How special?"

"Very. Cast your mind back about a year. Before you started playing games with the horses. Do you remember the articles in the paper about the big corporations that were leaving the large cities because of the traffic and smog? Or the article that told us that the companies were honoring our fair city by locating within its limits, bringing prosperity, more traffic and smog in their wake? Is it coming back now? Logan's conglomerate led the way.

"We now have Logan Computers being strung together in one part of town. Logan Condos and Town Houses are sprouting up in all directions. And the new hotel? Compliments of Logan architects, contractors and builders. You name it, Logan's doing it. "

"You mean I had a multimillionaire hanging up my picture and screwing Aunt Tillie's tumbledown house together?"

"Did you really?" Amused blue eyes looked into dark ones. "How'd he take it?"

"Like every other man cadging a home-cooked meal. Willingly." She remembered quite clearly, however, that he had turned down the meal, and, even more clearly, his alternate suggestion.

"That's probably where he gets that I-have-spoken-now-hop-to-it! attitude," she mused aloud.

"What do you know about him?" Judy asked.

"Very little. He's perfected a technique called 'I ask, you answer.' And you know how I am. I talk in ...."

"Paragraphs. What does he do?"

"Listens. Then utters syllables. Yes. No. The most I've gotten out of him is that he's thirty-three, a contractor, he thinks I'm a patsy, but all the same he wants ..."

"What?" Judy pounced like a bright-eyed bird who had waited patiently for crumbs at a picnic. "He wants what?"

"Me." Kara admitted, cursing her loose tongue.

Why did her thoughts always emerge as words, tumbling out one after another, forming sentences beyond recall? Other people managed to remain silent with no trouble at all. Perhaps, she thought hopefully, some of Dane's clam-like ability would rub off on her.