Sunset Point: A Shelter Bay Novel (7 page)

As he took a drink of his beer, Nate saw the relief in her eyes. Alexis was right, he mused. Tess Lombardi was an intensely private person. As was he. Nate liked the idea that they had something in common besides fresh food. And the captain.

“You really were terrific this morning,” he said, his smile coaxing one in return. “I guarantee that the jury will come in with a unanimous decision for conviction.”

“I’d like to think you’re right. But the day I believe I can read a jury is the day I chuck law and head for Las Vegas and become a professional poker player.”

“Let me know so I can get my bets down,” he said with an easygoing grin meant to encourage her to relax.

“You’ll be the first to know,” she said as the server returned to the table with their lunches. She picked up her fork and took a bite of her field greens salad. “This is delicious.” And an admitted treat given that, like everyone else in the office, she usually ate her lunch at her desk. No one ever became a government prosecutor for the salary or lifestyle.

“Lombardi,” he murmured thoughtfully as he cut into his pulled pork sandwich. “I put a great deal of my royalties into the coffers of Lombardi Wineries. I don’t suppose you happen to be—”

“Luca Lombardi was my four-times-great-grandfather,” Tess cut in. “He started the winery with vines he brought over from his family’s vineyard in Tuscany.”

The name instantly rang a bell.
Damn
. No wonder she’d stiffened when he’d brought the subject up. Nate had just graduated middle school when eight-year-old Tess Lombardi had disappeared while walking back to the Lombardis’ vast estate, where she’d been visiting her maternal grandmother. Twenty-four hours later, her mother, Claudia Lombardi, had received a ransom note demanding a million dollars in uncut diamonds for her child’s safe return.

The family had paid the ransom, Nate recalled. Although the news hadn’t been 24/7 back in those days, it was impossible to miss talk of the frightening case of the kidnapped young heiress. Even as far away as Orchid Island, where he’d grown up. Although he’d never admit it to her, the event had inspired a short story for a writing competition. But in his version, her character had been beamed up into a spaceship by aliens.

As updates of the case turned up on the nightly news every night, his mother and father, and those of every other kid he knew, had suddenly turned hypervigilant, making today’s helicopter parents seem downright laid-back by comparison.

It was two more desperate weeks before the sheriff and her dad had found her in what was essentially a hidey-hole at a remote cabin in the coastal mountains. Although a medical examination had declared her physically unharmed, the press had openly speculated about the child’s emotional health for weeks.

Six months later her father Mike Brown, a Portland police detective, had tracked the Lombardi housekeeper—who’d disappeared the day of the kidnapping—to Idaho. In a stroke of unfortunate timing, he’d arrived hours after the woman’s death, which a coroner had ruled to be a suicide. Although never proven, there were those, including Brown, who believed that the woman had been murdered by someone wanting to ensure she’d never talk about the crime.

“I’m sorry. Now I understand why you reacted so harshly when I grabbed you. Which I apologize for. Even without your history, that was out of bounds. And, honestly, way out of character for me.” His deep voice softened with sympathy. “It must have brought back a lot of memories.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” There’d been times when Tess couldn’t decide whether her lack of memory of the experience was a good or bad outcome.

“Yet I frightened you.”

“Of course you did. It was getting dark, I was alone, and you were a much-larger strange man who came out of the shadows and grabbed me. Any woman in her right mind would have been scared.”

“I can’t argue with that,” he said. “But I still believe we’re talking more than expected nerves.”

Those clear, intelligent eyes saw too much. In that respect, he reminded her of Donovan. “All right. I’ll admit it. I was scared.” The control she’d demonstrated in the courtroom slipped a bit as her fingers tightened on her fork. “I’ve been receiving some calls that have made me uncharacteristically jumpy. My first thought was that you might be him.”

“Damn. Now I’m really sorry. What kind of calls?”

“Merely the anonymous kind that come with the job. And I have absolutely no idea why I’m telling you this.”

The only other people who knew about the calls were Donovan Quinn, Multnomah County District Attorney Thomas Barnes, Jake, and Alexis. Tess hadn’t even told her father.

Despite having retired from the force after a heart attack six months ago, Mike Brown wouldn’t hesitate to track down any bad guy who might dare threaten his daughter. Something she refused to risk for fear of causing another attack.

“Perhaps you’re telling me because of this.” Nate reached into his pocket, pulled out a piece of paper, and handed it to her.

“It’s a surprisingly good likeness,” she murmured, studying the extremely flattering sketch. “You didn’t mention you’re also an artist.”

“I’m not. I can’t paint anything but a wall, but I did inherit an amateuristic ability to sketch from my mother, who’s a professional artist. My father paints, too, but only as a hobby.”

“This is a step up from amateur work,” she said. “But it’s a little presumptuous of you to change my hairstyle.”

“I didn’t change it.”

She looked up at him. “Of course you did. You drew me with straight hair. My curls have driven me crazy for years.”

He waved away her argument. “Your curls are gorgeous. But I couldn’t have known the difference in the hairstyles when I drew that sketch.”

“When did you draw it?”

“Eight weeks ago.”

“That’s ridiculous, we—”

“Hadn’t met yet.” Nate’s gaze was unnerving as it swept over her face.

“You could have seen me on TV. My bigamist case has gotten a lot of coverage.”

“I don’t watch the news, especially when I’m on a deadline, which is almost always. There’s too much bad stuff on it.”

“Says the man who writes about even worse things.”

“My books are fiction. I did look you up after I found your wallet. Google kicked up a lot of pages about the money-laundering trials. Obviously I didn’t read deeply enough to get to your past.”

“It’s encouraging to learn that my work shows up before that old kidnapping story.”

“It does. And it’s all good. Including an article that suggested you were considering running for congress.”

“Now
that’s
definitely fiction.”

“Too bad. The political system, which has become a horror story of its own, could use someone like you… And I’m betting you really don’t believe in ghosts.”

Tess took a soothing sip of ice water. What he was suggesting was not only ludicrous, it was impossible. She couldn’t help wondering if all those years of writing about monsters had affected the man’s mind.

“No, I don’t. And for the record, nor do I believe in vampires, sparkly or otherwise, werewolves, ghouls, or any other spooky things that go bump in the night.” Tess speared a piece of romaine topped with pomegranate seeds. “With such a vivid imagination, it’s no wonder your books sell so well.”

“That sketch isn’t a figment of my imagination. And believe me, Tess, neither is Captain MacGrath.”

Tess froze at the all-too-familiar name.

Busted
. Nate had sensed there were hidden depths to Tess Lombardi. Angus MacGrath might be a clever old soul, but he couldn’t have captured Nate’s unwavering interest with just any woman.

“I suspect most people who’ve visited Shelter Bay have heard the name.” After taking another drink of ice water, she drew in a deep, calming breath. “Given that the wreck of the ship he was captaining is still rusting away on Castaway Cove.”

Every instinct Nate possessed told him that Tess knew more than she was telling, but before he could dig deeper, they ran out of time.

She put down her glass and stood up. “I’m due back in court to make my closing statement.”

Nate tossed some bills on the table. “Don’t worry, Counselor, I’ll get you back before the bailiff calls the court to order.”

The sun was shining through a break in the slate-gray clouds as they left the restaurant.

“We didn’t get to finish our conversation,” he said as they walked back to the courthouse. “Have dinner with me tonight.”

“So I can waste my time listening to you drag out this outrageous bit of fiction concerning the alleged ghost of a man who died a century ago?”

“I can see that your work would make you cynical,” Nate allowed. “And granted, it does sound like an outrageous story. But it’s not fiction.”

“I don’t know what game it is you’re playing here, Mr. Breslin—”

“It’s Nate,” he reminded her. “We shared a lunch, which you didn’t finish. And you can deny it until doomsday, but we’re also somehow personally connected through the captain. I’d say that allows you to call me by my first name.”

“I don’t
want
any connection with you, personal or otherwise.”

“Hey.” He held up both hands as they reached the steps of the courthouse. “I didn’t ask the guy to put you in my dreams, okay? I’m just trying to figure out why.”

“If he has done that—and I’m not admitting for a moment that I believe your crazy claim about his existence to be true—it’s not me who’s been appearing in your dreams.”

Nate’s right brow rose in an unmistakable sign of irritation. “I suppose you have a better explanation for that sketch? A drawing I did before I’d ever met you?”

“I can’t explain what possessed you to draw it in the first place,” Tess admitted reluctantly.

“Now we’re getting somewhere. So you’re willing to admit that some indefinable force is responsible?”

“No.” Tess shook her head. “As I said, I’ve no idea why you drew it. But whatever the reason, you’re way off base.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“
You’re
the one with the vivid imagination,” she tossed back as she started up the stone steps of the courthouse. “You figure it out.”

Nate frowned, not wanting to let her get away quite yet but knowing he had no choice. How cooperative would Tess be if he made her late for court? Not very. In fact, considering how seriously she took her work, she’d probably never speak to him again.

But, dammit, he’d been right. She knew. Somehow, in some unfathomable way, he and Tess Lombardi were mysteriously linked. And the captain, as he had suspected all along, was the key.

Just as he was trying to figure out his next move, Tess appeared to take pity on him.

“The sketch is of my great-great-grandmother,” she informed him over her shoulder. “So if your dreams
have
honestly been haunted by a Lombardi, it’s Isabella, not me.”

As she turned away again, Nate watched her with a mixture of lingering irritation and masculine appreciation. She might act like the Marine drill sergeant he’d suffered under for all those weeks of basic training after he graduated from college, but Tess Lombardi had the best legs of any woman he’d ever met.

“You may think you’ve had the last word, Counselor,” he murmured. “But believe me, lady, we’ve only just begun.”

Nate was smiling as he left Portland and drove back to Shelter Bay. Tess might have been right when she’d suggested it was her ancestor who’d been playing a starring role in his dreams night after night.

But now that he’d met Isabella’s intriguing great-great-granddaughter, if the woman thought he was going to simply write the entire experience off as a case of mistaken identity, she wasn’t nearly as intelligent as he’d already determined her to be.

Oh, no. He and Tess Lombardi weren’t finished yet, Nate vowed.

Not by a long shot.

“Traitor.”

Alexis glanced up at Tess, her expression giving nothing away. “I heard things went well in court today. Congratulations.”

Tess leaned forward, resting her hands on the surface of her friend’s desk. “You conspired with Nate Breslin to trick me into lunch.”

“Ah. I take it he caught up with you?”

“He did,” Tess muttered.

“You don’t sound particularly pleased. You can’t tell me the food wasn’t great.”

“The food was excellent, as always. It was the company that left a great deal to be desired.”

Alexis began straightening the correspondence in her out basket. “That’s odd,” she murmured. “Nate is usually a fascinating conversationalist.”

“I suppose he might seem that way. To someone who finds ghouls and goblins fascinating.”

“Nate is a little bent,” Alexis admitted. “But I’ve always thought that was one of the most appealing things about him. It’s fascinating to watch him think his way around corners.” Picking up a rubber band, she put it away in a drawer. “Of course, his gorgeous gemstone-green bedroom eyes aren’t so bad, either.”

“What are you doing noticing his eyes? You’re engaged.”

“I’m engaged, not dead.” Her expression sobered. “You know, he’s very nice.”

“Oh, really?” Tess replied with feigned disinterest. “Personally, I found him tiring.” She shook her head. “Besides, his behavior could only be classified as bizarre. He actually spent the entire lunch telling me a ghost story.”

“I’ve always enjoyed Nate’s stories,” Alexis countered easily. She took a drink of coffee from the ever-present mug on her desk. “You know, there’s something to be said against being too choosy.”

“That’s easy for you to say. After all, you just happen to be engaged to one of the smartest, as well as nicest, men I’ve ever met. Not to mention him being super hot.”

“Matthew and Nate are the opposite sides of a very attractive coin,” Alexis agreed. “And I hadn’t realized you’d taken such notice of my fiancé’s attributes.” Alexis’s smile was calm and confident.

“I’m choosy, not dead.”

The women shared a laugh before returning to their work. After ten minutes, Tess looked up from the lengthy transcript of the Kagan case.

“Alexis?”

“Mmm?” The other woman was lost in a law book, taking notes on a yellow legal pad.