The Lady Vanishes Read online

  Nick appeared in his door holding a rope tied in an intricate knot. “I think I figured out how to . . .” He paused. “What’s up?”

  Milton grabbed his jacket and scarf from the back of his chair. “I’ll be back a little later, okay?”

  Nick looked doubtful. “Roland’s going to be pissed.”

  “He’ll get over it.”

  Nick shrugged. “Probably. Is it that female doc from Friday?”

  Milton paused in the act of shrugging on his jacket. Had he been that obvious at the hospital? “Yeah,” he said with a grin.

  A small smile curled the corner of Nick’s mouth. “Good luck, man.”

  “Thanks.” Milton grabbed his messenger bag and dashed past Nick. He took the stairs instead of the elevator, heading down quickly to keep Roland from trying to stop him.

  The icy air hit Milton with a slap as he left the building, but he ignored it, dashing toward the limo, which was pulled up to the curb and idling. He threw open the door and ducked inside quickly.

  “Whew. Thanks, Shane.”

  “Where are we going?”

  Milton rattled off Regina Burke’s address.

  “Let me know when we’re a couple minutes away.”

  “Sure, boss. Whatever you want.”

  Around two o’clock in the afternoon, Regina left her loft and headed to the corner grocery, a small organic market and food store run by a local family. The prices were high, but Regina didn’t have to walk or bike far in the snow, so she considered it well worth the expense.

  She picked up some items for the week: salad, chicken, flour, chocolate, milk, and coffee. She’d had a craving for chicken and dumplings lately.

  Her phone remained silent, though she half expected to get a call from Milton Shaw any minute.

  The older woman behind the checkout counter, Eugenia, smiled at her widely, revealing sparking dentures. “Well, hello, doc. You’re looking fit as ever.”

  “Thank you, Eugenia.”

  Waving off any thanks, the lady began scanning her groceries. “Every time I see you here, I’m surprised there’s no man in your life.”

  Since they frequently had this conversation, Regina wasn’t sure how the woman could be surprised at this point, but she wasn’t going to say anything. “Haven’t found the right one, I suppose.”

  “The right one—bah. Just find one you can stand in bed.”

  This was new. “Oh, yeah? That’s all it takes?”

  Eugenia shrugged her bony shoulders. “That’ll be forty-two twenty.”

  Regina handed her two twenties and a five.

  Eugenia wasn’t finished talking, though. “Well, no, not if you’re talking about marriage. Then you want a man with a good job who is kind to his mother. But for a little fun . . . sure. Why not?”

  Taking her receipt, Regina smiled at the woman, who meant well, after all. “You might be right, Eugenia. I’ll think about it.”

  Eugenia cackled. “Well, good. Let me know how it goes.”

  Smiling patiently, Regina gathered her bags and left the store, knowing that they would likely have a similar conversation next weekend. She pushed the glass door to the shop open with her shoulder and sucked in her breath in surprise at the slap of cold air coming off the Charles River. The sky was overcast again and just dark enough to promise a little rain. She hoped it held off until she got home. The walk wasn’t far, only ten minutes or so, but it was long enough in this weather, and if it started raining she’d be screwed.

  She wasn’t that lucky. She’d gone half a block when the rain started pouring in earnest. She tried to cover the groceries as best she could with her coat, but she had a feeling that her flour was going to be mush by the time she got back to the loft.

  Cursing, she started to jog, but came to a surprised halt when a limo pulled up to the curb next to her. The back door opened, and Milton Shaw, wearing jeans and a cream-colored shirt, waved at her. “Get in before you freeze to death.”

  Regina hesitated—just for a second, because she wasn’t stupid; she knew a godsend when she saw one—and then hurried over to the limo.

  He got out and took her bags and then gestured for her to get in ahead of him, his dark hair already plastered to his head.

  She ducked inside the warm, leather-smelling interior, and couldn’t help but think of her childhood, of having her dad’s driver take her and Celeste to McDonald’s when her father was out of town.

  Milton followed her, setting her bags on the floor of the limo, and took a seat next to her, his large body tantalizingly warm next to hers. She looked at him, and found him staring back at her.

  The driver called through the partition, “Uh, boss? Are we still headed to the lady’s house?”

  “Yes,” Regina answered.

  “Actually, drive around for a little first, Shane.”

  “You got it,” Shane answered. He prudently rolled up the partition between them as well.

  Milton hadn’t looked away from her face to give that particular order. Rain dripped from his dark hair onto the planes of his cheeks, his bold nose, and down his chin. She started to snap at him that she wanted to be taken home immediately, but the look in his eyes halted her.

  She swallowed and licked her lips, tasting rainwater, and his gaze followed the motion.

  “You’re wet,” he murmured, and Regina felt her cheeks blaze with color. How does he know that?

  “Here.” He pulled open a cabinet door in the side of the limo and produced a bath towel, fluffy and deep gray, and handed it to her. “Take off your coat and dry off.”

  Oh, he means from the rain. Yeah, she was that, too. Regina removed her coat and immediately began drying her face and hair, hiding her red cheeks as best she could. “You always carry towels in your limo?”

  He grinned, a quick flash of white teeth that dazzled her for a moment. “Ever since I started performing, I’ve kept towels handy. They’re good for water, blood, you name it.”

  Regina finished drying herself off, and tried to hand the towel to him. He was as wet as she was, but he waved it away.

  “Take it,” she ordered. “You’re soaked, too.”

  He took it, but he didn’t dry his face with it. He just held it and continued to stare at her mouth.

  “Fine, give it to me.” She took it from him and dried his face, pressing the towel against his forehead, his eyes, forcing him to close them.

  He caught her wrist with one strong hand, and removed the towel from her suddenly still fingers. He bent his head slightly over her hand, and seemed to breathe in deeply. His eyes were still closed. His fingers loosened around her wrist, and her hand slid through his, their damp fingers sliding together. He caught her hand before it could slip away completely, and pressed his lips to the pulse in her wrist.

  Regina gasped, and it was as if time slowed, as if all that existed was the faint gray light coming through the windows, the smell of the rain and clean cotton, and the feel of his lips brushing her sensitive skin. His eyes opened, dark blue and burning. Regina thought it was a trick, that he could make his eyes blaze like that, but then he was kissing her, and she strained against him, the towel pressed between them as they tried to get closer together. He tasted like mints and coffee, sweet and complex at the same time, and she wanted more.

  She went to her knees on the seat, so that her head was above his, and she gripped his cheeks, feeling the rough stubble on the planes of his face. He moved, taking her legs out from under her so that she was on her back on the seat and he was above her, and her wrists were just as suddenly pinned over her head.

  He held her and let his eyes wander over her face, her lips, her heaving breasts. She glanced down, not surprised to see that her nipples were hard.

  “I want you like this, held like this, and I want to touch every inch of you, draw every inch of you.”
r />   “Draw me?” she whispered.

  “Yes,” he whispered, kissing the corner of her mouth. “Draw you as if you are on stage. Draw you as the inspiration for my magic.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to be the inspiration for anything.”

  His smile flashed again, and his gaze traveled down to her breasts, taut and clearly outlined by her shirt. “You can’t help it.”

  He kissed her again, tracing her lips with his tongue, and Regina shivered, pressing her lips harder against his and kissing him back as best she could without her hands, arching insistently up against him.

  “You have to admit we have chemistry,” he said with a gasp, pulling away from her mouth. His gaze fell on her heaving chest.

  “Shut up,” Regina ordered. “Kiss me again.”

  He did, swooping down to take her mouth again with unbridled enthusiasm and plenty of skill. When he pulled away a second time, she made a sound of acute frustration.

  He swallowed, his eyes dark in his face. “I think we’re here.”

  Regina stared at him for a moment, but then his words registered. The car had stopped moving. He was on top of her, his hard body pinning her to the seat. He was deliciously heavy and warm.

  Shane’s voice came through the intercom, “We’re here, boss.”

  “Has it stopped raining?”

  “Mostly.”

  Milton’s thumb stroked her wrist. “I wish you lived across town. Then I could do this.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “This.” He kissed one cheek and then the other. “And, of course, this.” He traced her lips with his tongue. “I could do that for hours. Your mouth is perfect, with that plump bottom lip and this tiny scar.”

  He took her mouth again, but Regina turned her face away, unnerved by his mention of the scar.

  “I need to get going,” she said. She wanted out of this limo and as far away from him as possible. Why did this man make her behave so completely out of character?

  Both his face and his grasp on her wrist tightened briefly, but then he let her go. “Let me walk you to your door at least.”

  He sat up, a visible restlessness pervading every inch of his body, and his fingers were twitching again, as if performing an invisible trick. She hurriedly sat upright, putting on her coat as if it were a shield.

  “All right,” Regina said, giving in—she wanted out of the limo, away from the smell of arousal and rain and leather. She was never going to be able to get in a limo again without getting turned on.

  “Great,” he said. “I’ll be right back, Shane.”

  “All right.”

  Milton opened the door and stepped outside, holding out a hand to help her from the car.

  She handed him one of the grocery bags instead and helped herself out. The rain had indeed stopped, but the clouds looked ready to spill again at any moment.

  He shut the door to the limo and looked at her, humor making the corners crinkle. “Well, that was the most fun I’ve ever had in the limo.”

  Regina shook her head and moved around him, marching in the direction of her loft. The sooner she got indoors and away from him, the sooner she’d be able to think clearly again.

  After a few minutes, she realized he wasn’t following and turned around. He was standing where she’d left him, his eyes fixed on her rear end, and she groaned and turned around again, aware of his gaze with every step.

  MILTON MADE SURE HIS COAT WAS CLOSED, concealing his current predicament, and followed behind Regina, holding her groceries in one arm. Her perfect little ass twitched at him as she marched away, and he had to hurry to catch up with her before she reached the gated staircase that led to her loft.

  “Can I take you to lunch?” he asked finally, wishing his hands were free.

  She slid him a glance that he couldn’t quite make out, but it didn’t look promising. “No, I’ve had enough insanity for one day.”

  “Insanity. That’s what you call that?” He called it magic, but to each his own. He did feel a little crazy, out of control, like he’d just survived a trick that had gone wildly awry.

  “Yes,” she said firmly, just as they arrived at the stairs leading up to her loft apartment. “That’s exactly what I call it.”

  She stopped and faced him. “Thank you for the ride home.” Her eyes widened briefly for no reason that he could tell, but after a moment she swallowed and set her jaw. “I’ll take that bag.”

  Milton glanced at the bag of groceries he carried. He’d intended to insist on taking them up to her apartment, hoping that it wouldn’t take much convincing to get her to take off her clothes. She seemed to guess what he intended, however, and was just as determined to make sure that he didn’t set one foot across her threshold.

  “All right,” he said, handing the bag over and shoving his hands in his pockets. “If I call you tonight, will you answer?”

  She paused with her foot on the first step. “I’ll answer. But you should know, Mr. Shaw, I’m not going to go out with you. Not for lunch, or dinner, or coffee.” It felt ridiculous to hear her call him Mr. Shaw. She’d kissed him. Technically, she’d made out with him.

  Agitated, Milton removed three small balls from his pocket and began juggling them with one hand. “Why not?” He made one of them seem to change color, and then another, and another, until there seemed to be a swirling rainbow of color in his hand.

  She watched the trick with wide eyes, her mouth falling open a little, and Milton knew that at least some part of her was fascinated by the idea of magic. Some part of her wanted to be fascinated, wanted to be tricked, and if she gave in to that interest, even a little, she would be his, he just knew it. He stopped, making all the balls disappear, and waited for her response.

  She blinked rapidly and took a startled breath. Shaking her head slightly, she turned away from him and quickly jogged up the steps. “I’m just not interested, Mr. Shaw. Find someone who is. I’m sure there’s a line of woman dying to be your inspiration.”

  Milton shoved his hands in his pockets and watched her climb the steps. If this was disinterested, God help him if she ever decided she really wanted him. He was liable to start writing bad poetry and building avatars that looked like her.

  Whistling softly, to no particular tune, he strolled back toward the street, where Shane waited. He might just do that, anyway, but he didn’t think it would convince her to go out with him. So what would?

  “Sir?” Shane said gruffly.

  “Yeah.” Milton nodded and walked around the limo to the back passenger seat, getting in quickly. Shane had left the car running, so it was warm, but Milton didn’t pay that much attention to it. Shane opened the partition and met Milton’s gaze in the rearview mirror.

  “The office?” he asked, his South Boston accent making the word sound like “ahhfice.”

  Milton nodded, then shook his head. “No, Harvard Square.”

  He didn’t have to explain to Shane why he wanted to go to Harvard Square, an intersection across from Harvard Yard popular with buskers and street performers. Shane knew that if Milton was headed there, he intended to perform. It was about lunchtime, and even in the cold, the businesspeople, tourists, and college kids would be out and about watching the shows. There was snow on the ground, but it had stopped raining . . . mostly.

  “You’ll freeze,” Shane pointed out. A man of few words, Shane, and always to the point.

  Milton nodded.

  Shane headed northeast, toward Beacon Hill, while Milton pulled out his phone and texted a friend of his, a private investigator named Burris Miller, a ridiculously tall man who liked to make beer. A former cop turned tech junkie, he did most of his sleuthing over the Internet. He didn’t give the man any details, just a name, Carter Burke, and a question mark. Burris would figure it out.

  He wasn’t sure it was a smart idea to see if he could find Regina Burke’s father
, but he was curious if he could. The man had used his encryption software to evade the government and steal millions. Milton was interested to see if he could get it back. And if he could . . . maybe Regina would think well of him.

  The thought plagued him as Shane drove toward Harvard Square. Milton pulled out a small black mask and a top hat from another cabinet in the limo, and held both in one hand. When they were a few blocks away from the square, he had Shane pull up to a corner a few blocks away so he could walk the rest of the way, not putting on the mask or the hat until he was closer.

  Regina Burke and her beautiful mouth lingered in his head as he negotiated with a sharp-eyed kid running a game of three-card monte for a small table and an extra deck of cards. He hadn’t brought a table or any of his normal supplies, so he’d have to rely on sleight of hand for most of the tricks. It wasn’t his best skill—Roland was actually much better—but it would do, especially today, when his mind was occupied with thoughts of the beautiful doctor.

  He shuffled the cards rapidly in his hands, then made one levitate, grabbing it out of the air as if keeping it from escaping. He pretended not to notice the glances he received, and unlike the kid, he didn’t keep up a constant patter. He smoothly moved into another trick, spreading the cards like a fan and then pretending to drop them, scattering cash instead, much to the delight of the audience.

  A small group of women bundled tightly against the weather stopped to watch him, their cheeks pink from the cold.

  “Ladies.” He swept them a bow. “You look like visitors to Boston. Are you sightseeing?”

  They nodded, already smiling in response to the gleaming white grin he bestowed on them.

  “Well, I’d like to try something I’ve never tried before; if I mess up, I never have to see you again, right? You’re not staying in Boston?”

  They promised they weren’t.

  “Okay, then. I’m good at card tricks, pretty good, but not at mind reading. I have a piece of paper here, and a pencil. I’d like to try it, just this once. Can I read one of your minds?”