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  “Ms. Connoly!” The deep, masculine cry came from the doorway. Jordan arched a brow at her. “Ms. Connoly, are you in there, are you all right? Mr. Hunt? What’s going on? Will someone please answer me?”

  “James Tanner, the doorman!” Kathy said quickly to Jordan. “You must have met him on the way in.”

  He shook his head. “There was no one downstairs when I entered the building. A young man was outside helping an older woman into a car.”

  Jeremy gasped. “James said he’d been outside for a few minutes when I rushed in and saw him. He was going to call the police as I came on up here. Oh, Lord. I’m sure he did—”

  “Did call the police!” Kathy said in dismay.

  “I’ll run out and explain the situation to James and maybe he can call them back and stop them before they get here,” Jeremy said.

  He pulled away from Kathy. She lost the nightshirt—it was caught in his arm—as he did so. Turning beet red, she made a dive to retrieve it.

  Jeremy, flushed to a shade of crimson, returned it. He then walked out of the room as Kathy grasped the nightshirt to her chest. Jordan continued to stare at her, his lips curving into a smile of amusement...and something more. She wasn’t quite sure what.

  “Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he reminded her.

  “And nothing you have seen in a long, long time,” she reminded him.

  He shrugged. His smile deepened. “Things don’t seem to have changed much.”

  “Oh, but things have!” she assured him. “Jordan, will you please get out of here!”

  She didn’t need to issue the plea because at that moment they heard another voice. One she didn’t recognize. “Hey, in there! What’s going on?”

  “The cops!” she moaned. What else could happen to humiliate her?

  The police had not been stopped from coming. They were already here. Kathy was still clutching her nightshirt when two uniformed officers burst into her bedroom, guns drawn, James and Jeremy following behind them, both trying to explain, but so incoherently that nothing was made clear. The officers were convinced she was in danger. Once again, Kathy’s blood raced to her cheeks as she tried to speak for herself, but the police were trained to move swiftly and she didn’t have a chance to talk to them before they seized Jordan.

  “Against the wall!” an officer roared, his hand upon Jordan’s shoulder as he started to slam him against the bedroom wall.

  “No, wait!” Jeremy cried in dismay.

  “Sweet Jesus!” the doorman moaned upon reaching her room and falling back against the wall behind the second policeman who had burst in and now held his gun on the crowd of them, looking from one to the other. “Here goes my job!” James moaned.

  “Please!” Kathy shouted, ignoring him and talking to the officers. “Wait, please! This is my home, and you don’t understand the situation!”

  “Is it an assault, a rape?” the older officer asked.

  “It’s just dinner,” Jordan said wryly, staring across the room at Kathy.

  The officer went still, both brows raised in confusion. “What?” he asked.

  “Dinner. Ms. Connoly was changing to go to dinner,” Jordan said. He firmly caught the policeman’s hand, easing it from his body. He wasn’t angry or ruffled. “Officers,” he said pleasantly, “thanks for coming, but there’s really nothing wrong here.”

  “I thought someone was attacking Kathy,” Jeremy murmured. “I told James to call the police when I came hurrying up.

  “Mr. Hunt didn’t realize that the man up here was Mrs. Connoly’s husband,” James tried explaining.

  “Ex-husband,” Kathy said. No one seemed to notice. James was still trying to explain.

  “And I didn’t know that Mr. Treveryan had come in because I was helping old Mrs. Lunstead from upstairs into a limo. It’s really all my fault.”

  The officers—the younger one a twenty-something fellow with neatly cropped dark hair and large, soulful Latin eyes; the older one a grizzled-looking, blue-eyed Irishman—stared hard at Jordan. The older fellow was already grinning. “It is Jordan Treveryan, as I live and breathe!” he said.

  “Wow!” said the younger fellow. He glanced quickly to his superior. “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah!” the older man said on a breath of hero worship.

  And Kathy realized that she was still standing in her own bedroom in nothing but lace panties and clutching a piece of cotton to her chest while these guys ignored her and paid homage to Jordan.

  She cleared her throat. “If you all wouldn’t mind?” she said, stressing the last word.

  Ridiculous. The cops didn’t even notice her irritation—or her state of undress.

  “So is Blue Heron getting back together?” the younger one asked.

  “Want to set those guns back in their holsters?” Jordan suggested, his tone still level and calm, his smile casual. “I think you’re distressing Kathy, but it sure is great to know New York’s finest can make it here so promptly.”

  “Kathy!” the older one said with a gasp. He gave her his full attention at last. “Then you were with Blue Heron! Ex-wife, you were Kathy Treveryan, you were...Oh, wow, what a night!”

  Now they were all staring at her. She felt like a lobster—only lobsters had shells and she just had a handful of cotton.

  She tried to be pleasant, though she had to grit her teeth. “Will you all please get out of my bedroom!” she demanded with what patience she could muster.

  “Oh, my God!” the young cop suddenly exclaimed. It was his turn to become beet red. “William,” he said to the older officer. “Kathy and Jordan Treveryan. I think we—oh, no—I think we interrupted...” His voice trailed away awkwardly. It was quite clear just what he was afraid he had interrupted.

  “You didn’t interrupt anything,” Kathy assured them all quickly. She wanted to hit them, but she wasn’t about to give anyone a chance to say she had protested too much. She forced a smile. “As Jordan said, I was just changing for dinner. I do appreciate the fact that everyone here”—her gaze took in Jeremy and the doorman as well as the officers—“was concerned for my safety. I’m fine. And I’ll be much better if you’ll all leave me alone so that I can get dressed!”

  “Of course, of course!” the older officer, Will, exclaimed. “Out!” he told the younger one. And Jeremy and James spun around as well, nearly tripping over themselves now to leave her room.

  Jordan was in no hurry. He grinned broadly at her, his hands idly resting on his hips. “You do provide excitement.”

  “My life is usually nice and pleasant and dull as hell! You caused all this, sneaking up here behind my doorman’s back!”

  “I didn’t sneak anywhere, I didn’t see your doorman. And I knocked!”

  “Jordan, just get out, will you?” He shook his head and grinned, this time with pure amusement, then exited her bedroom.

  “Damn them all!” she breathed out as she slipped quickly into her dress, spurred by the fear that someone else could further insult her dignity by bursting into her bedroom.

  The two officers remained in the apartment. When she was dressed and had returned to the living room, they were still there, along with James, her usually competent doorman. Jordan was giving out autographs and musical advice.

  Jeremy—her lifesaver—was watching Jordan with the same reverence as the others. She felt like kicking him. But at least, so far it seemed that nothing about her real relationship with Jeremy had been given away, and she intended to keep it that way.

  As the officers apologized profusely for breaking in on her, Kathy prayed that they would just quit and go away—and that she wouldn’t run into either of them at the neighborhood deli, market, or Chinese restaurant. She thanked them for coming so quickly when they’d thought she might be in danger. Then James tried to explain all the confusion to them again, still dismayed at not having been able to see to the needs of two of the building’s tenants at the same time. Jeremy consoled James. They’d all been caught in a bit of confusi
on.

  Right. But Kathy had been the only one caught nearly naked, she thought resentfully. Petty! she told herself. She should just be grateful to know that help would come so fast if she needed it! And she was remembering how frightened she’d been when she had thought a thief—or worse—was in her kitchen, she truly convinced herself that she was being ridiculous, and she thanked the officers sincerely.

  The policemen finally left—with autographs. James had to be reminded that he needed to return to the door since he was the doorman.

  And that left Kathy alone again with Jordan and Jeremy.

  Jeremy was, bar none, the best-looking man Kathy had ever met. He had deep blue eyes, so dark they were cobalt. His hair was thick and nearly jet black. He stood at an even six foot two and since he spent most of his life working out, he had the body of an Adonis. His face matched his godlike body, and he was one of the nicest human beings Kathy had ever met. She loved him dearly—as a friend. She could only pray that he would go along with her now.

  “Jeremy, Jordan and I were about to go to dinner. Would you like to join us? Jordan, you wouldn’t mind, would you?”

  “I...no,” Jordan said, though it was evident that he did.

  “I...” Jeremy hesitated as well. He didn’t want to step on Jordan’s toes, but he did seem to understand that Kathy needed his support. “I think perhaps the two of you might want to talk.” He took Kathy’s hands and looked down at her with a warm smile. “I’ll be home, if you need me.” He released her hands and turned back to Jordan. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you. I think I’ll turn down the dinner invitation, but I hope to accept some other time.”

  Jordan nodded. Kathy couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in his mind.

  “I’m trying to talk Kathy into coming to Star Island for a week,” Jordan said. “Naturally, you’re welcome as well.”

  “Oh, but...” Jeremy began.

  As subtly as possible, Kathy stomped on his foot.

  “I really don’t think he can convince me to come,” Kathy said, smiling at Jeremy. “But I certainly wouldn’t go alone.” She hoped that Jeremy could see the plea in her eyes—and that Jordan could not.

  “Well, let me know what you decide,” Jeremy said. He lifted her hand to his lips, then kissed it, and it seemed he felt he needed to go a step farther for her, for he pulled her close to him, brushed a kiss on her forehead. “Call me, Kathy. Mr. Treveryan, again, it’s been a pleasure.”

  He left the apartment.

  “Are you ready?” Jordan asked. “Or is the fire department coming as well?”

  She shrugged. “You shouldn’t have surprised me,” she told him defensively.

  “You should have remembered that your...er, friend was on the phone.”

  “I was startled.”

  “I didn’t know I could still startle you that badly. Ten years is a very long time.”

  “You took it in stride.”

  “So did you,” he commented, a glow of amusement in his eyes once again.

  She swore beneath her breath. He heard her.

  “Well, it was good to know the police could just about fly in like that, wasn’t it?”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “They didn’t point their guns at you,” he reminded her.

  “They didn’t find you half-dressed!”

  “I’d rather be naked than shot,” he said dryly.

  “I wasn’t naked,” she said defensively.

  “Then why the outrage?” he demanded softly.

  “Do you want to go to dinner or not?” she asked.

  He swept out a hand, indicating the front door. “I would very much like to go to dinner.”

  She walked on past him, then paused just as she had gone on by him. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why do you want to go to dinner with me so badly?”

  “That’s obvious, isn’t it?”

  “Is it?”

  “I want you to come to Star Island.”

  “But I don’t want to.”

  “You do.”

  “I don’t.”

  “I’ll convince you.”

  “You won’t.”

  “I will.”

  “You won’t—”

  “Damnation, Kathryn!” he exclaimed suddenly. Then she was startled to feel his hands on her shoulders, startled by the tension and passion evoked by his touch—and by seeing the dead-set determination in his eyes. Her breathing and her heart seemed to stop, and yet she sensed the mad surging of her blood, the hot racing through her veins.

  Let me go! she thought in sudden panic. He was really too close now, touching her. And he felt the same. His hands...she knew the feel of them; he had held her like this before. Time slipped away, so softly, as if it hadn’t been. And the way he held her now, touched her, stared at her, it was as if the years had slipped away for him as well. As if they could almost pick up from where they had left off—without the gap of a decade in between.

  Yes. She knew Jordan. Knew his touch, the feel of his hands...that look in his eyes. Something was haunting him, driving him. Yet despite his tension, his voice was deceptively soft when he spoke again.

  “You’ve got to come. It’s extremely important. So help me, Kathryn, unless I die trying, I will convince you to come!” he exclaimed. “By God, I will!”

  Four

  “WHY?” SHE REPEATED STUBBORNLY, after a minute. She pulled away from him nervously.

  He lowered his eyes and his head briefly. She saw him knotting his fingers into fists at his sides, saw him release them with determination.

  When he looked at her again, there was a smile on his lips, a casual light within his eyes once again.

  He sighed with exasperation. “It’s an honest, polite invitation. The girls want you to be there.”

  Ummm. He was taking a different route now. One that would surely get to her.

  And she fell for it, despite being certain there was more behind this “honest, polite” invitation.

  “The girls have known all about this for a while, I take it?” she asked.

  He hesitated. “They’ve known. Not that long, really.”

  Traitors! The little darlings—ummm! the little witches!—lived with her most of the time.

  Something sobering seemed to settle over her and she shook her head, still determined that there was far more to this than Jordan intended to admit. “Why a reunion? It isn’t going to be the same. It can never be. Not with Keith dead.”

  He hesitated. Just a moment too long. Time might have passed, but she did still know Jordan Treveryan. Maybe better than anyone else. He was going to lie to her.

  “I think we can create some excitement and make really big money for some really good charities.”

  “There’s more to it than that.”

  He shrugged. “Music is in big at the moment.”

  “Music will always be ‘in.’”

  “Musicians who have kept their popularity are in. I’ve never suggested the group actually get back together; I wouldn’t want that. But I’ve invited everyone who was involved to Star Island, I intend to put on a show and do good deeds with the proceeds. People are going to make movies whether I—or we—approve of them or not, and I do happen to like those making this picture. They approached me immediately; they were honest and direct. A lot of time has passed. Maybe it’s the right time for all the tempest and trauma of Blue Heron to be put to rest.”

  Strange way to put it, Kathy thought. Though she was still certain he was keeping something back, she believed he was being sincere—to a point.

  “Dinner?” he said.

  She nodded. “But it’s getting pretty late. The girls should be home soon. I think I’ll leave them a note.”

  “Are you going to tell them where you are?”

  “Are you planning on seeing them?”

  “Of course, I’d like to.”

  “Want to wait for them so we can all have dinner?” she asked.

  She
didn’t know why, but she was glad when he shook his head. “No. Ten years is a long time. We should talk through some things first, before adding them to the brew, don’t you think?”

  “Your call,” she said lightly, and preceded him out the door.

  Jordan had never cared for many of the trappings that came with success. He liked to walk, on big city streets and country roads; liked to enjoy sunsets and study old buildings, but tonight, he had come to her home in a black stretch limo. It had been parked just down the street. The limo wouldn’t particularly be noticed by the people living in her building—it was inhabited by Wall Street brokers, well-known actors and actresses, successful models, oil execs, and even an Arabian prince—a nice enough fellow except that Kathy was certain he was keeping a harem in his penthouse apartments. Though she wasn’t exactly a bra-burning feminist, she couldn’t help but feel indignant about the situation, no matter what the man’s background. This was the U.S.A. She had risen in her chosen field, having become Executive Senior Editor and Associate Publisher, but in publishing, titles were often much weightier than paychecks. She’d only managed to get the apartment because Jordan had always been a smart businessman. Though she’d refused to take a settlement after their marriage, each band member still received royalties from the sales of records, albums, tapes, and compact discs. She’d bought the place from an associate who’d married a rich but weary stockbroker who wanted to leave the city behind and move to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, to raise sheep. The pair, happy as larks, were doing that now, and Kathy received Christmas cards each year showing the two of them smiling—along with their sheep. In the background was always beautiful white snow, and she promised herself every year that she would go out and see her old friend, her old friend’s husband—and their sheep. She hadn’t managed to do it yet.

  Which left her with another dilemma. She probably could get time off, she was in a senior enough position to throw a good pitch to the publishing company’s president, Marty Rothchild, but at least a half-dozen books in various editorial stages required her close attention.