Midnight Jewels (6 page)

"That may not be saying much about my intelligence."

"So what happened?"

"Are you always this rude?"

"It's my nature. I like to understand what I'm dealing with."

"The only thing you're dealing with tonight is a free meal. That shouldn't require much understanding."

"The hell it doesn't. You know as well as I do that there's no such thing as a free lunch. There's always a reckoning."

She couldn't decide if he was laughing at her or not. Mercy didn't dare turn around to find out. "Feel free to walk out the door before you find yourself in too deep."

"I'm already in too deep. But don't worry, I think I'm willing to pay the price. What happened in California, Mercy?"

He was too much. But when she shot him a quick glance
over her shoulder, she found her irritation evaporating. Instead of a mocking or prying inquisitiveness she instead saw in his eyes an intense, almost physical awareness. She experienced an overwhelming desire to explain everything to him. She had never talked about
this particular part of her past with anyone, but now she wanted Croft to understand what had happened. "Remember what you said earlier about how difficult it was to choose a lover because one never knew for certain if one was choosing a friend or an enemy?"

"I remember."

"Well, my fiancé turned out to be an enemy. He used me to try to defraud my aunt and uncle, who happen to be quite comfortably established due to some excellent investments they made several years ago in California real estate. I found out what was happening just in time, broke off the engagement and told my relatives what was going on. It was an extremely unpleasant situation. Unfortunately, there was no way to prove anything. When it was all over, I'm sure Aaron just cut his losses and went on to his next victim. The only satisfaction I got out of it was reporting the whole thing to the authorities. At least they can keep an eye on him now. Maybe if he tries another scheme they'll catch him."

"Not sufficient revenge for you, though, hmm?"

She could feel his gaze on her as she turned up the heat under the kettle of water. "No, frankly, it wasn't. I would have liked to have done something a great deal more permanent to Aaron Sanders."

"Because he tried to defraud your aunt and uncle?"

"No, because he used me to do it." She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and collected her frazzled emotions. Damned if she would allow this man to spend the rest of the evening unnerving her. It had been a serious mistake to invite him to dinner.

But, then, she hadn't exactly invited him, Mercy re-minded herself wryly. Somehow she'd been quietly coerced into doing it.

Croft's eyes met hers. His gaze was disconcertingly serious. "I understand how you feel. But I think in your case it's better things ended where they did. Once you'd taken the next step in revenge, which would have been violence, there would have been no easy way to modify the end result. It might have consumed you as well as him. Once violence has been initiated, forces are set in motion
that can't always be controlled. A new Circle is formed and must be completed."

She stared at him. "A Circle?"

He nodded. "A subset within the structure of universal reality that must be completed if it isn't to shatter and cause problems in other areas."

"What on earth are you talking about?" she demanded. "What is this Circle business?"

"A concept."

"Your own?"

He shrugged. "In the same way that my style in the world of martial arts is my own. We're all responsible for shaping the concepts we use to deal with the world."

Mercy hesitated, trying to understand. "This concept of a Circle is your personal philosophy, then?"

"You could call it that."

"Tell me about it," she insisted. She had forgotten her previous irritation, uncomfortableness and even her sexual awareness of her guest. She had lost all self-consciousness and now just wanted to know everything she could about Croft Falconer.

He paused, as if searching for simple answers to a complex question. When he looked up again his eyes were gleaming. "It has to do with a way of knowing. A way of understanding. A way of riving. You're right. It's my philosophy of life. I've learned that in order to maintain an equilibrium in my world it is first necessary to keep all the Circles of reality closed."

"I don't think I understand."

"It's not necessary that you do. Maybe someday I'll explain it further."

"But not tonight?"

"No, not tonight. Just take my word for it. You were wise not to push your desire for revenge into the Circle of violence. You're not trained to handle it."

She caught her breath at the certainty in his voice. His gaze held a knowing quality
that almost frightened her, an expression that said he understood all too well what he was talking about. He had more than a casual knowledge of the potential of physical violence; his was a deep, unequivocal understanding and acceptance of that harsh reality. He had said his field of interest was the philosophy of violence, and Mercy suddenly believed him.

"Did you know," Croft continued easily, as if she weren't staring at him with an expression
that suggested he was really from Mars, "that a strong sexual attraction has something in common with violence?" He got to his feet with a lazy grace and walked toward her. Mercy stood rooted to the spot, unable to move or look away from his gleaming gaze. He reached out and slowly, deliberately stroked her cheek. "Once certain initial steps are taken, it's very difficult to control either force. A new Circle is begun."

With a shuddering effort of will, Mercy regained a measure of poise. "Well, then," she announced as she turned back to the stove, "we shall just have to make certain the initial steps aren't taken, won't we?"

By the time dinner was over, Mercy felt as if the leopard painted on the screen in the living room had come to life and padded silently into her kitchen. He was there, a visitor from another reality. There was danger, she realized, but her overwhelming feeling was simply of being enthralled by this new and fascinating creature.

The fact that he was aware of her fascination and willing to let her pursue it both troubled and excited her.

Croft Falconer was a man she would very much like to know better. Part of the attraction was physical. Mercy was too realistic to try and deny something so powerful. He had touched her senses in a variety of ways, stirring everything from the fine hair on the nape of her neck to the adrenaline in her blood.

Admittedly, she had not been physically involved with a man for a long time. There had been no one since the fiasco of her engagement. Aaron Sanders, her
fiancé, had provided her first and only experience with sex. The few times she
had been to bed with him had left her frankly wondering what all the fuss was about.

But the two years of being without a lover didn't account for her intense feelings
this evening. She had certainly met enough men on casual dates during the past few months. None of those dates had ended in bed, nor had Mercy wished they had.

Sex had never been an overwhelming force in her life, never been anything she couldn't easily control. It was true she had had a rather old-fashioned upbringing, but that didn't account entirely for her limited experience. The truth was, she had been quite comfortable for the past two years, just as she had been comfortable, if curious, during the years before she had met Aaron. There had been no sense of desperation or compulsive need to find a mate. In fact, Mercy bad begun to wonder if perhaps she simply wasn't endowed with all the hormones that seemed to drive other people in her age group.

For the first time she no longer doubted that she had received the full complement of female hormones and instincts.

The sensual attraction was thick in the atmosphere around the glass topped dinner table. It was disconcerting and she was very much afraid Croft had been right when he claimed
that this kind of thing might have something in common with violence. Both could prove uncontrollable. It was a revelation for Mercy.

Still, she was a strong-wilted woman who had been through a lot since the day she had discovered the appalling manner in which Aaron Sanders had tried to use her. Mercy had enough self-confidence to know she could handle a strong physical attraction, even if it was something new and fascinating in her life. It should have been possible to view Croft as she would an exotic piece of arc Compelling, tantalizing, intriguing, but definitely out of reach in terms of
price. She could admire such art, even desire it, but she could walk away from it with a sigh and a shrug.

Unfortunately, her feelings for Croft Falconer were not merely a question of attraction. The very remoteness of the man drew her to him in a way she couldn't explain. The self-contained quality about him spoke of a unique kind of aloneness. She wondered if that state of isolation ever slipped over the border into a state of genuine loneliness. Surely at the edges the line between those two states was very thin.

Or perhaps, like the leopard on the screen or a ghost from another dimension, Croft Falconer did not need or want to share his world with anyone else.

Mercy sensed the strength and pride and power that made up Croft's nature and realized that a part of her responded with a sense of respect. This man was rock solid all the way through.

Mercy chatted easily during dinner, guiding the conversation into safe channels. She told her guest about her shop, about living in Ignatius Cove, and asked him questions about the business aspects of running his self-defense schools in two different states. He talked easily, politely, and with civilized grace, but he said very little that Mercy could grab hold of to analyze and examine in detail.

All the while she was silently looking for answers to questions she wasn't yet sure how to put into words. She felt driven to learn as much as possible about Croft, and his reluctance to talk about himself only increased her need to learn his secrets.

She wondered about his past, about the kind of life he had led that had made him choose a career in the world of martial arts. She would have expected an American involved in such a physical business to come across as either a highly competitive, professional athlete or a super macho, thick-brained gorilla.

Croft clearly did not treat his career as a sport. He did not have the mentality of a jock. And although he was quietly, supremely sure of himself, she couldn't write him off as a muscle bound gorilla. There was too much thoughtful, analytical intelligence behind his golden gaze, too much evidence that he had done a great deal of critical self-evaluation. His self-assurance rose from the fact that he knew himself well and accepted that which he knew. She sensed instinctively that he had evolved an all-encompassing lifestyle. It had its own rules and scale of right and wrong, both of which probably operated somewhat independently of society's norms. The important thing was that he would always abide by his own rules.

The philosophy of violence, the study of it, was apparently a way of life to him. A tiny, warning shiver went through Mercy as she wondered if perhaps Croft were equally knowledgeable about the actual practice of violence. Studying the martial arts was one thing, but in truth most karate and judo experts never used their skills outside a gym. She did not want to believe Croft had firsthand experience of his subject.