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Caught between the pleasure of remembering the girl who’d become closer to her than any sister and the pain that was still raw as the day that Nat had died, Rayne didn’t notice the scrap of paper that fell from between the pictures. Not until it landed on her lap.
With a frown, she picked it up to smooth out the wrinkled paper and read the words that were scrawled in red ink.
Give me what I want or die . . .
Chicago, Illinois
Now
Mark Jefferson strolled into the elegant house on Lake Shore Drive with a sense of smug satisfaction. It didn’t matter that it belonged to his wife. Or that it had been purchased by Tami’s former husband. In his mind, this place was the validation of what he’d known since he was a young boy living on a farm in the middle of Nowhere, Iowa. He was destined for a life of sophisticated ease.
Who cared if he’d never become a famous actor? Or that he was stuck in frigid Chicago? He had a closet full of designer clothes, he went to the best parties, and when the cloying attentions of his wife became overwhelming, he took off to LA for some fun in the sun. Not bad for a man who’d never worked a day in his life.
Leaving his bags in the foyer, Mark frowned as he reached for the small gift that had been left on a side table. What was that doing there? He strolled into the sitting room, finding his wife standing next to the fireplace with a cigarette in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other. He arched his brows. It wasn’t even three o’clock. A little early even for Tami to start drinking.
At the sound of his footsteps, she whirled to face him. “Mark.” She tossed the cigarette into the crackling flames. She knew that he hated her smoking. “I didn’t hear the taxi.”
Crossing the white carpet, he placed a light kiss on her cheek. “Did you miss me?”
“Of course.”
A brittle smile curved her lips, but she couldn’t disguise the way her gaze hungrily drank in the sight of him. He knew exactly what she was seeing. Despite the fact that he was nearing fifty, his copper curls didn’t have a hint of gray and his hazel eyes still shimmered with golden flecks. His waist might have grown a couple of inches, but his morning trips to the gym made sure there was no flab, and his deep dimples maintained his boyish charm.
Halting in front of Tami, he held up his hand. The large diamonds that studded his wedding band flashed in the firelight. “If that’s true, why am I finding gifts for you from some secret admirer?”
Her smile tightened. “Would it bother you if I had a secret admirer?”
He shrugged. He was an expert at this game. “If you want someone else, all you have to do is say the word and I’ll be out of here.”
The predictable fear darkened Tami’s eyes. She was terrified of losing him. She always had been.
“It was Rayne,” she said in sharp tones.
“Rayne?”
“She came by this morning and brought me a Christmas gift.”
Caught off guard by the unexpected name, Mark scowled. From the moment he’d chosen Tami Taylor to be his permanent sugar mama, the one negative had been her daughter, Rayne. He didn’t want to be a dad. Or have a kid underfoot. And he most certainly didn’t want to share Tami’s generous income with the brat.
It had been a simple matter to convince Tami to send Rayne to Austria once they were married, and thankfully, Rayne had chosen to stay away from the house after she’d returned to the States. But he always worried she might decide to repair her strained relationship with her mother. He intended to nip that nonsense in the bud. He needed Tami completely dependent on him.
“Why was she in Chicago?” he demanded.
“She had to bring some pictures for her upcoming exhibition.”
“Is she going to be staying?”
Tami smoothed her slender hands down the tailored jacket of her pantsuit. She didn’t seem nervous, not exactly. But there was a tension humming around her that Mark didn’t like.
“I offered her a room.”
Mark stiffened. “Why would you do that?”
Tami clicked her tongue. “Obviously because this is her home.”
Her answer did nothing to ease Mark’s annoyance. “Not really. She’s been a vagabond for years. And I just got back in town,” he reminded his wife in peevish tones. “It’s uncomfortable having a guest underfoot.”
“You don’t have to worry, she’s not staying.” Tami glanced away, as if unwilling to meet his gaze. “She wanted to search through the attic, and then I think she said that she was going to stay at a hotel. Or maybe she was going to sleep in her van. I wasn’t really listening.”
