"Not on me. Not so far. And it gives her something to do besides get in trouble. Where's all your psychic intuition? You should have known I was in the house. So should Hannah, for that matter."
Libby shrugged. "We rely on the house to warn us. It knows you. You're no threat to us."
"I am to Hannah. If she doesn't start taking care of herself I'm going to do something drastic."
Libby looked up at the hard edge to his voice. His jaw was set in the stubborn line she knew so well. "I'll make sure she does. What did you want?"
"Well, I've been thinking about how odd it was for you to mess with someone injured so severely when you knew how dangerous it was. It's not like you. You're always careful that no harm can come to your sisters. And then there was Irene. It was completely out of character for her to start beating on you with her purse. And I've looked at the erosion on the cliff. That landslide didn't just start on its own. Have you done something to some . . ." He trailed off and cleared his throat. "You know. Sorcerer? Voodoo queen? Maybe one of you conjured up a spirit and it's royally pissed that you brought it here."
Libby burst out laughing. "Jonas. You're such an idiot. You know very well what we do and don't do. And we don't conjure up spirits, bad ones or good ones."
"Well, something isn't right, Libby. One of the boulders was pried out of the ground and it set off the landslide. I found two slide marks in the mud, but no real shoe print. I went down to the beach and examined the boulders. Most of the rocks are still intact and I could see scratches from some tool. How would someone have gotten on your property to do that kind of damage?"
"I left the gates open for Inez. I told her I was going to be on the beach. Maybe someone saw something suspicious."
"You can't see up there from the beach and the way the terrain dips down, no one from the road would have seen either. Was Hannah home at the time?"
"No, she just returned a few minutes before I came up from the beach."
"Do you have enemies?"
"Well, of course I do. People think I can raise the dead. Just like Irene, they think I'm choosing to allow their child to die. If someone believes I can heal their dying child, but I refuse, don't you think they're going to be really angry with me, especially if that child does die?"
"Have you had any recent threats besides Edward Martinelli?"
"Take your pick. I get them all the time." She didn't want to admit to him she didn't remember who Edward Martinelli was, but she must have looked confused because Jonas gave her a brief hug, towel and all.
"He sent someone to see you and requested a meeting, Libby. They weren't very nice about it and you said you felt threatened. They mentioned Hannah's name. I'm looking into it."
She pressed a hand to her throat. "I hate not remembering an entire block of time out of my life. I do know I have a file of threats, Jonas. I can give it to you if you think it's necessary."
"Absolutely I want it as soon as possible. I'm taking this very seriously and I want you to do so as well."
"It's a little impossible to be serious about anything when I'm standing here in a towel, Jonas," Libby pointed out.
"Harrington!" Tyson Derrick yanked open the door to the bathroom. "What the hell are you doing in the shower with Libby?"
"He's in the shower with her?" Hannah squeezed past Tyson to glare at Jonas, hands on her hips. "You're such a skunk."
"How did you get in here?" Libby demanded of Tyson, gripping the towel to make certain it wasn't slipping. "This is the bathroom, not a convention hall. Has everyone lost their mind?"
"Hannah let me in," Ty said. "And it's a good thing she did."
"Why is that?" Libby asked before she could stop herself.
"I'm going to throw Harrington out on his ass."
"Oh, good," Hannah said. "Finally someone with the right idea."
"I wasn't in the shower with her, Derrick," Jonas hissed between his teeth. "Whatever Hannah may have implied. I happen to be investigating what may have been an attempt on Libby's life, so back off." His eyes flashed sparks at Hannah.
Hannah wrapped her arm around Libby, the laughter fading from her eyes. "What do you mean, Jonas? Do you think someone's trying to hurt Libby?"
"I don't know, that's what I'm trying to find out. There are a couple of things that just aren't adding up for me."
Sarah, eldest of the Drake sisters, pushed her way into the bathroom. "What are we doing in here, entertaining?" Behind her, Kate and Abigail hovered in the doorway trying to see around Tyson.
Libby hid her face on Hannah's arm. "This is turning into a circus."
"Is it always like this?" Ty asked, one black brow raised in inquiry.
"Pretty much, yes," Jonas answered.
"Libby, what is that on your neck?" Sarah demanded.
Kate and Abigail crowded into the room to examine Libby's exposed neck. Libby turned bright red and clapped a hand over the offending mark.
"It's a brand new birthmark," Hannah explained.
The three Drake sisters turned as one to look at Jonas. He held his hands up. "It wasn't me. Why do you always blame me for everything? I'm not about to be biting on Libby's neck."
"It was Tyson Derrick." Hannah gave the name up without a qualm.
Ty held up his hand as all eyes turned to him. "That would be me. I don't believe I've met everyone. Sarah and Kate, yes."
"I'm Abigail."
"Nice to meet you. Libby and I have a date tonight. She's late."
"I wouldn't be late if everyone would stop coming into the bathroom. Get out. All of you. This dating business isn't as easy as it looks."
"She's cranky," Hannah said to her sisters. "Let's let her get dressed. Jonas can tell us why he thinks someone tried to hurt Libby."
"Good idea," Tyson said. "If there was an attempt on her life, I'd like to know about it."
"Libby!" Sarah said. "Why wouldn't you tell me?"
"I'm getting a headache," Libby wailed, pressing the heel of her hand against her forehead. "And if I don't dry my hair it's going to frizz."
"Libby," Sarah insisted.
"Jonas doesn't know for certain. The cliff sort of crumbled and it just happened."
"I've seen you with your hair frizzy," Ty said. "It wasn't that bad. More like frothy fuzz than if you stuck your finger in a light socket. Just throw on some clothes so we can go. And I was with Libby when the cliff crumbled. Erosion, pure and simple."
"When did my hair look like frothy fuzz?" Libby demanded.
Hannah signaled frantically, but Ty frowned at the ceiling, missing her gestures completely. "Several times. The most memorable was when you arrived ten minutes late to Dr. Chang's class and slammed the door, interrupting his lecture. He would have thrown anyone else out, but not the royal princess, Libby Drake. Your hair was wild and you were wearing jeans with a frayed hem and a hole in the right back pocket. Your shirt was two sizes too big and you had it knotted around your waist."
Libby pointed to the door. "Get out. Get out right now."
"I'm rather impressed he remembered every detail of what you were wearing when it was several years ago," Sarah said.
"You get out, too," Libby said. "My hair is not wild."
She glared at everyone until they filed out. As soon as the door closed, she pulled the towel from her hair and stared at her image in the mirror. Her hair was wild, but it wasn't her fault. She needed to tame it the moment she was out of the shower. And she still had those jeans. They were her all-time favorite. She'd even thought about wearing them to dinner, but now she'd have to find something else. The water had washed away the dirt, but she still had a raccoon mask from her sunglasses and her nose was bright red. Libby sighed and gave up. There was no miraculously saving the evening. Ty had already seen her as she really was.
6
"THE Chinese ideogram for trouble symbolizes two women living under one roof. What do you suppose the ideogram for seven women under one roof is?" Tyson asked as he broke off a piece of freshly baked
bread.
"Joy," Libby answered immediately. "I like this place. I come here sometimes with my sisters. The food is excellent." She tried to relax, to just breathe and not blurt out that she didn't date much and was terribly uncomfortable. He'd probably laugh at her. She flew all over the world and exuded complete confidence in every area of her life except her personal one. The truth was, she had no idea why she was sitting across the table from Tyson Derrick.
"I knew you liked the restaurant."
She sat back in her chair and regarded him over the flickering candle. The shadows on his face emphasized his good looks, the stubborn set to his jaw and the sensual shape of his mouth. He wore a dark jacket over a blue shirt and faded blue jeans rather than slacks. Libby thought he looked incredible. "You seem to know a lot about me."
"People have a tendency to talk about your family."
Libby set her glass down and looked him directly in the eye. There was something about the way he said it, his tone, a curl of his lip, maybe even contempt in his gaze. "What does that mean?"
He shrugged. "Your family likes publicity. I think that's common knowledge."
She stiffened. "I am not going to sit with you and have dinner while you make disparaging remarks about my family. I can leave right now if you'd like."
"Don't be silly, Libby. You're too sensitive when it comes to your family. Of course people talk about them. Hannah is a supermodel. Her face is everywhere. Joley sells out every concert. If she makes a CD, it sells over a million copies immediately and hits number one on the charts. She wins every music award possible. Kate's books are bestsellers and stay on the Times list for weeks."
"That's only three of us, Ty. I'm a doctor, Sarah does security and Abigail is a marine biologist."
"And Elle? She does seem to manage to fly under the radar."
Libby's gaze shifted away from his. "Elle programs computers."
Tyson smiled at her. "Don't ever try to play poker, Libby. The point is, all of you are well known, whether you like it or not. Doesn't going into the music industry or modeling or even writing books demonstrate a need for attention?"
"No." She glared at him. "Joley plays music because it's who she is. She happened to get lucky and make it big, but that's beside the point. She was born to make music and Kate has to write. She'd be writing whether she was published or not. Abigail loves the ocean and sea life. I needed to help people." She leaned her chin into her palm. "What about you? Why do you work in a laboratory and fly rescues in helicopters?"
His eyebrow shot up. "You don't think it's for humanitarian reasons?"
"No. I think you're very removed from the human race most of the time, Ty. That's part of the reason you don't understand my family."
The waiter placed the plates in front of them and Tyson waited for him to leave before he sat back in his chair and regarded her through half closed eyes. "I suppose I am. I wish I could tell you I find cures for various diseases because I want to help mankind, but I'm just not that nice."
He wanted to lie to her, to give her an answer that would make her admire him, but he wasn't about to deceive her. Her entire life was built around a deception and those closest to her continued to perpetuate it. He loved looking at her, sitting across from her watching the shadows play across her face, and it suddenly occurred to him that he should exercise a little diplomacy--an art he'd never bothered to learn.
Libby studied his face. There was an expression in his eyes, hunger, desire, longing, she couldn't describe it exactly but she knew he hadn't wanted to tell her the truth. "You aren't as bad as you think you are. You've done a lot of good, Ty."
"For selfish reasons."
She shook her head. "Is it selfish of Joley to need to play music? Or Kate to write books? You do what you do because your nature demands it. You have to find answers. You were driven in college and you still are as an adult."
Deep inside his gut twisted and a vise seemed to squeeze his heart. She was so nonjudgmental, accepting his need, the furious compulsions that drove him, that kept him in his laboratory for weeks and months. The need was so strong and he was so focused at times he had complete tunnel vision, uncaring of his own health or the needs of the people around him. No one, not even Sam, had ever understood his relentless pursuit of science let alone simply accepted it as being integral to his nature.
He was all too aware of her sitting across from him. Desire spread like fire, leaping through his body, igniting every nerve ending until he was acutely aware of every breath she took. His mind captured and stored every detail, the way she turned her head, the way her hair fell like tousled silk around her shoulders so that he needed to feel it against his skin. Everything about her intrigued him--and it always had.
He took a sip of wine and allowed his gaze to drift over her with infinite slowness. He could look at her forever. It was silly, really, how much he loved looking at her. He'd discovered the pastime in college when he was bored with his classes. She was so transparent, expressions chasing across her face, her eyes lighting up when she laughed--and there was her mouth. He loved her mouth, the way her lips were full and turned up at the corners. The way she could look sexy with her hair a mess, no makeup and in jeans, like now. Who else could do that? He had a sudden impulse to lean over and kiss her. The taste of her still lingered in his mouth--and mind, making him edgy with need.
"You're staring at me, Ty." Embarrassed, Libby lifted a hand to cover her sunburned nose. She couldn't wear dark glasses at night and not be conspicuous so he was probably staring at the white raccoon mask around her eyes.
"Am I?" He had fantasized about her a million times, but he'd never once thought she would be sitting across the table from him looking shy and confused, a soft rose color creeping up her neck to draw attention to her soft skin. "I like looking at you."
"That's a nice thing to say. Thank you."
"You're welcome. How much do you know about voodoo?"
"Voodoo?" Suddenly wary, Libby retreated, pulling back away from him. "I know a little bit. Why?"
"I just find things interesting and voodoo is a practice with thousands of believers even today. It's total bunk, of course, but the people who practice it are so fanatical they can actually present genuine physical symptoms or even die when they believe they're cursed. It goes to show how powerful our minds are."
She nodded her head in agreement. "I've seen women who want to be pregnant so badly that they manifest all the signs. The brain is extraordinary."
"The witch doctor holds tremendous power over his believers and yet in the end, instead of benefiting his followers, he dupes them. When you get right down to it, he's nothing but a con artist."
"Not all of them, Ty. Many of the witch doctors I've met actually do practice natural medicine and have an extensive knowledge of herbs."
"I'll bet they do. Herbs and poisons. That's how voodoo priestesses gained the reputation for raising the dead and creating zombies to use as slaves. The truth is, they gave their victims a potent cocktail consisting of neurotoxins such as the poison of an adder fish, which is one of the strongest nerve poisons known to man."
Libby nodded. "The clinical drug Norcuron has similar effects and is used in surgery to relax the patient's muscles. The poison from the pufferfish would cause severe neurological damage primarily affecting the left side of the brain which controls the speech, memory and motor skills. The victim becomes lethargic and then seems to die. By the way, he's still awake to witness his own funeral and burial."
"You haven't by chance performed this ceremony have you?" Ty asked.
She smirked at him. "Along with the pufferfish poison, the potion contains gland sections from the bouga toad, which basically are the drugs bufogenin and bufotoxin. The compounds are fifty to one hundred times more potent than digitalis and are essential ingredients for making a zombie. The secretions also contain bufotenine, which is a hallucinogen."
"So not only do you know your drugs, but you know how to make a zombie."
Libby smiled at him. "Like you, I find quite a few subjects fascinating."
Tyson let his breath out slowly. She wasn't getting the correlation between the witch doctor and her family. She was extremely intelligent, but like the practitioners of voodoo, she had grown up completely brainwashed.
"Don't you find it the least bit embarrassing as a doctor to have to explain your family to other people?"
He asked so casually at first she barely registered what he'd said. When the words sunk in, Libby had to resist the urge to throw her ice water over him. "You think my family is embarrassing? Have you considered that maybe for all your brains you are the stupidest, most socially inept person in the world when it comes to understanding people? I am not in the least embarrassed about my family or what all of us do."
"You're angry, aren't you? There's no need to get upset, Libby. We're just having a casual conversation. Why do women always take things personally?"
"Calling my family embarrassing is personal."
Tyson moved food around on his plate before forking a piece of chicken while he contemplated the situation. He chewed slowly, a faint frown on his face. If he was going to get her to use her brain and see her family for what it was, he was going to have to go a lot slower. She was intensely loyal, a great trait, but one that would be a severe impairment to his plan. "I never said I found your family embarrassing. I simply asked if you did. You were the one getting personal saying I was socially inept. As for being stupid, the charge is ludicrous and I won't even address it." He took a sip of wine and regarded her over the glass.
"In answer to your question, I'm well aware I lack social skills. And for your information, my parents were embarrassed by me all the time, so much so that they foisted me off on poor Sam and my Aunt Ida. Can you imagine what it was like for Sam to have me in school in the same classes with him? I was several years younger, a total geek and a nerd. I completely embarrassed him more than once and I still do."
Libby couldn't break away from his piercing gaze. There was no self-pity in his voice, he stated only fact. She was an empath, and whether he knew it or not--and she doubted he did--there was an underlying sadness in Tyson when he spoke of his parents. He was talking about his past and what had been painful, and still was, yet there was such longing in his eyes.