A Black Tie Affair Page 4

  Drew Clayworth.

  The instant she heard his name, her sisters’ voices slowly faded away. Images took living, breathing form around her.

  I’m still hallucinating!

  A 3-D home video played around her hospital bed.

  She felt the frigid December air, saw the light snow falling, perfect for Christmas Eve, glistening off Drew’s hair and skin. Heard her heels clicking on the dark flagstone terrace of the Clayworth mansion in Lake Forest. Drew looked up and saw her. His blue eyes pools of grief.

  “I’m alone and it’s my fault. The race was my idea, and my parents died because of it. Because of me,” he whispered.

  Her young heart splintered, and she wanted to give each and every piece to him. She knelt in front of him and cupped his face. “No, no, it’s not your fault. You’re not alone. I love you. I’ve always loved you, and nothing will ever ever make me stop loving you.”

  He stared at her so long and hard she’d thought she’d die of longing.

  “I believe you love me,” he whispered and crushed her to him the way she’d always dreamed.

  Athena blinked, willing the images to go away before she saw the ending yet again. She’d replayed it in her head too many times.

  “I don’t remember seeing Drew very much after his parents were killed in that terrible sailing accident when he was nineteen,” Diana said quietly. “It almost seemed like he avoided us after he moved in with the Henry Clayworth clan.”

  Athena knew he’d been avoiding her.

  She forced herself to focus on her sisters, who were glaring at each other like they did whenever Diana said anything that remotely cast the Clayworth posse in a good light. Venus always disagreed with her, and soon their voices would reach a fever pitch of sisterly bickering.

  “Please don’t argue. My head hurts enough already. I don’t remember seeing a doctor or Drew. Was I still unconscious when they were here?”

  “Far from it. You were calling for Drew.”

  “No fair teasing, Venus. I’m too weak to fight back.” Athena shut her eyes, wishing this whole thing was one long hallucination. She opened them again and looked up at her more serious sister. “She’s teasing, right?”

  Diana shook her head. “I don’t know why, but you kept calling for him, so we let him in.”

  The thought made her so weak she sank deeper into the pillows. “What did I say to him?” she whispered, dread nearly choking her.

  “We couldn’t hear anything through the closed door,” Venus admitted with a frown.

  “Did anyone bother to tell you why I’ve lost my mind?”

  Diana patted her arm. “Do you want us to locate Dr. Stemmer and find out what’s going on?”

  “Please,” she whispered, needing to get out of here before she made an even bigger fool of herself.

  Her headstrong sisters quickly and silently left the room, but at the door Venus turned to mouth, “We’ll be right back,” and Diana gave her a thumbs-up.

  Comforted by the knowledge that support would be only a shout away, Athena closed her eyes.

  “How are you feeling, Athena? Dr. Stemmer will be here in a few minutes.”

  Shock opened her eyes, and for the first time in fifteen years Athena looked up straight into Drew Clayworth’s eyes.

  Sure, she’d glimpsed him across crowded ballrooms at black tie affairs, large cocktail parties, any number of places, but she’d never purposely looked at him.

  Yes, he really did look exactly like the vintage poster of Paul Newman in Hollywood’s version of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof she’d once hung on her bedroom wall because it reminded her of Drew. Every feature from brow to lips seemingly chiseled in stone. His close-cropped fair hair made his eyes appear even more startlingly cornflower blue, piercing and crinkled at the corners with a smile.

  A far cry from the deadly serious, hurt glare he’d flung her the last time they’d been together.

  A burst of warmth exploded inside her, and all at once the hospital sheet felt heavy against her skin. She pushed it down the tiniest bit with her free hand.

  In two strides Drew reached her bedside. “How are you feeling?”

  The world tilted slightly to the right, and she bit her lip to stop the crazy thoughts racing through her mind.

  I know most women in Chicago would love having you hover over their beds. But I’m immune to you. Have been for years since you told me exactly what you think of me. And I’m here to tell you I feel the same way about you after what your family did to my dad. I don’t trust you any further than I could throw you.

  “Athena, what’s wrong?” Drew asked sharply and leaned closer to her.

  “I’m sorry I’m late.” A tall, handsome man she’d never seen before came striding through the door. “Hello, Drew. Athena, how are you feeling this morning?”

  With a thud that rattled her insides, the world settled back on its axis and sanity returned. “Better. Thank you,” she gasped, the room coming into crystal-clear focus.

  A ghost of a smile curled Drew’s long, full mouth. It vanished so quickly she might have imagined it, considering she’d been seeing other ghosts lately.

  To hide her confusion, she swept her dark glasses up off the bedside table and slipped them on.

  “You must be Dr. Stemmer come to tell me why I’ve lost my mind.”

  “You haven’t lost your mind, Athena.”

  Dr. Stemmer spoke with such utter assurance she actually felt the tiniest bit less panicked at wanting to brazenly tell Drew what she really thought of him.

  “After studying your blood test results, I believe you were exposed to toxic fumes or particles that caused a rapid and adverse neurological reaction. The effects can mirror those of being exposed to Sodium Pentothal, the so-called truth serum.”

  “Truth serum.” The thought of what she might have done made her feel sick again. She purposely concentrated on Dr. Stemmer and tried to ignore Drew’s looming presence.

  “Is Bridget all right? Is she hallucinating, too? She was in that vault, too, breathing the same toxic air.”

  “I checked on her this morning. Bridget is fine. She didn’t have any direct close contact with the four Bertha Palmer gowns the way you did, so she wasn’t as severely affected.”

  Thank God she had on her dark glasses so neither Drew nor the doctor could see her shock. “What do you mean? What do the gowns have to do with it?”

  “Bridget told us she found you underneath the skirt of a dress you’d been examining for an hour. I suspect the gown itself is toxic.” Dr. Stemmer glanced down at his pager. “I’m sorry. I need to go. I’ll have the nurse take you off the IV drips. Rest now. I’ll be back to see you later.”

  Some memory tried to fight its way out of her aching head, but she couldn’t quite grab it. She gave up to make sense of what Dr. Stemmer had just told her.

  “I can’t believe Bertha’s gown had anything to do with this,” she said to Drew, who still hovered by her bed.

  “I can,” Drew answered with the usual Clayworth confidence. “Lewis Stemmer is the best. He knows what he’s talking about.”

  No doubt her face looked as hot as she felt consumed with another odd spurt of truthfulness. “Drew, I beg Dr. Stemmer’s pardon, but not yours. Neither one of you knows as much about Bertha’s gowns as I do. I’m an expert on vintage clothing and have had my head up dozens more skirts than either one of you.”

  Now she couldn’t mistake his smile. It curled his beautiful mouth deep at the corners. “In that department I can’t speak for Dr. Stemmer. Only myself.”

  The Clayworth confidence, and the Clayworth reputation with women, set her on fire. She thrust up her chin. “Probably I’ve had my head up more skirts than you. Vintage ones for sure!”

  “That’s debatable,” he muttered, lowering his lids for an instant over those cornflower eyes.

  I’m going to do it again.

  She tried not to open her mouth. She ran her free hand around the neck of the hospital gown t
o let in some air to cool her hot, heaving bosom. Anything to stop herself.

  “Of course, how could I possibly have forgotten,” she drawled, helpless not to. “I remember the item Rebecca ran about you and your cousins closing down a restaurant in Paris while cavorting with a troupe of topless can-can dancers.”

  His lips twitched, and his eyes lightened to a silvery blue. “You can’t believe everything you read. Even in Rebecca’s column. It was Prague, and the ladies were wearing Bohemian costumes.”

  “No doubt fine vintage,” she snapped.

  He laughed. “Yeah. Costumes and women.”

  Their eyes met, and her body tingled back to life.

  No way. I will never ever again be sucked in by the Clayworth charm. He doesn’t mean it. It’s all show. I can see it in his eyes.

  She thrust her chin so high, her neck ached. “Your global escapades with your cousins don’t make you an expert on vintage couture. I am one. And I’ve never been overcome before, or found any garment remotely toxic. Obviously, I was overcome by some toxic matter you Clayworths are hoarding in your store’s top-secret closet!”

  “I’ll be able to confirm Dr. Stemmer’s diagnosis when he examines the gowns.”

  “And just when will that be happening, so I can offer my expert opinion?”

  He calmly glanced at his gold Rolex. “In approximately an hour the gowns will be delivered to his lab here. I’ll be back afterward. Rest now like the doctor ordered.”

  Since she’d woken up in this hospital bed, her whole world felt out of rhythm, with her two beats behind. Only when Drew turned to leave the room did she think of more comebacks for his smug confidence about the dresses.

  But could they be right?

  Again, the memory hovered just out of reach.

  She looked up to see her sisters peeking through the open door. “Swear to me you won’t e-mail or phone Dad about this,” Athena called out, suddenly afraid the Fates, Drew, truth serum, and her father were more than she could deal with at the moment.

  “We swear, but we need to leave now. The doctor wants you to rest,” Diana called softly.

  “We’ll be back in a few hours with your favorite Leonidas chocolate,” Venus promised and blew a kiss.

  At the precise moment of blowing a kiss back to her sisters, the nagging memory she couldn’t quite grasp earlier leaped out and hit her over her head.

  She’d stood in a hospital doorway blowing a kiss to T. A. Long, her favorite costume curator in the whole world, when he was in the hospital with a strange ailment after doing a thorough examination of a black Dior evening dress.

  No, it can’t be the same illness. T. A. was so much sicker.

  Groaning, she shut her eyes, trying to figure out if the two incidents could truly be related.

  T. A.’s illness had been caused by fumes from degrading plastic that designers sprayed on the netting under dresses decades ago. Could the boning in the much older Bertha Palmer dresses be degrading and have a similar effect?

  Tears burned in her eyes, and she quickly brushed them away. She didn’t want the Bertha Palmer gowns to be found guilty of poisoning her. She wanted them placed in the museum, where they belonged. They were tangible pieces of Chicago history for future generations to enjoy and learn from. They were the centerpiece of the exhibit that would generate enough money to cement the scholarship in her mother’s honor and start Makayla on the road to a great future. If only Athena’s dad hadn’t dropped the ball because of the Clayworth mess, it would all be in place and none of this would have happened.

  But it had happened, and she had to fix it.

  Despite Drew Clayworth, who had the distinction of being her first really big mistake.

  On the way to Lewis Stemmer’s office, Drew couldn’t help laughing to himself. Prim and proper Athena Smith had challenged him about knowing his way up a woman’s skirt. And told him what she thought of him.

  Why didn’t I do the same instead of kissing her?

  Did she remember it? Had it brought back any old memories for her, like it had for him?

  He needed to know what game she was playing this time. Her eyes had always given her away. That’s how he’d known what she’d done to him.

  She didn’t need those damn glasses, the same large, pale-smoke-tinted lenses, the kind shaded at the top so they’re clear over the cheeks, she’d been wearing in all the newspaper pictures he’d seen of her in the last few months.

  She was hiding behind them, just as Rebecca’s columns hinted. Hiding her feelings about the loss of her father’s spotless reputation.

  The latter at the hands of his family.

  Tension tightened like a vise around his neck and shoulders. He shrugged, trying to relax. He never second-guessed himself. He felt as sure of his decision about Alistair as he did Lewis Stemmer’s medical diagnosis of Athena’s illness.

  Drew stopped in the glass walkway between the hospital and Lewis’s office. Below on Superior Street, Venus and Diana were getting into a cab.

  If Drew believed in fate, Athena’s reappearance in his life would be some kind of omen. She’d been there on the cold, snowy night he first vowed to win the yacht race that ultimately killed his parents. And here she appeared again on the eve of his finally fulfilling his promise to himself to race in the Fastnet.

  The memory of the first Christmas after his parents died rubbed painfully against his hard protective shell. He’d let her in that night, and the aftermath had changed him.

  He strolled slowly, giving himself a few more minutes to stop thinking about their past. At the moment he couldn’t avoid Athena, and it had nothing to do with their fate being written in the stars like she had once told him, lying on the sand at the Clayworth beach, regaling him with the myths her father had woven for her. Then he’d been totally taken in, no doubt from teenage testosterone. He’d learned a long time ago the only thing in the heavens were the constellations that guided lost sailors at sea.

  He’d confirm Lewis’s diagnosis and make sure she got what she needed to get well. Clayworth’s would assume all responsibility. That would be the end of it.

  Decision made, he glanced at his watch and took the stairs so he wouldn’t be late for the appointment with Bertha’s gowns.

  Connor stood waiting for him. He’d seen this look before on his face. Poised, armed, ready to do battle.

  “What the hell is wrong now?” he demanded, striding in and shutting the door.

  Then he saw Lewis standing over Bridget, who looked small, huddled in a chair. Ed Mahoney, Clayworth’s top insurance specialist, sat beside her.

  Again that edge of dread sliced through him. “Bridget, what are you doing here? You should be at home resting.”

  “No, I had to tell you myself.” Her green eyes looked flat and dull, very different than yesterday. “Drew, the Bertha Palmer gowns are gone. All four of them. Someone’s broken into the Secret Closet.”

  CHAPTER

  4

  Bridget swayed in her chair. A rush of adrenaline drove Drew toward her.

  Lewis got there first and lifted her wrist in his long fingers.

  She shook him off, casting them all the warning glance Drew remembered seeing a hundred times growing up. She hated any mollycoddling, as she called it.

  “I’m not looney like I was yesterday. I know this is my fault. I was so worried about Athena I don’t remember whether or not I set the code on the closet’s small door. Then with all of us tramplin’ through the place today, we probably destroyed any evidence there might have been.”

  Lewis nodded. “I can’t tell you this isn’t a problem. If I’m right, those dresses need to be found before anyone else becomes infected.”

  “We will, Lewis. I promise.” Anger that someone would violate the Secret Closet made his voice cold. “We’re all concerned about the danger to others.”

  “That’s the problem, Drew. I’m not sure of the extent of the danger until I study the toxin. So far, exposure hasn’t been life-thr
eatening. But that could change. That threat is what we must contain. I’ll notify the proper authorities and keep you informed.”

  They all stared at one another in silence long after Lewis left the room. They all knew Clayworth’s reputation was at stake at a time when they were vulnerable.

  Ed, short, bulky, and ruddy cheeked, cleared his throat like he always did before presenting them with the store’s latest insurance crisis. “Until the gowns are recovered—and I’m confident they’ll be found—I know you want the insurance settled. I took the liberty of bringing the necessary paperwork for the board members to sign.” He laid out what looked like reams of forms.

  Another kick of déjà vu. Ed looking and sounding like this on the day after Drew’s parents’ funeral. Sitting in Henry’s three-story library in the main house of the Clayworth compound, there had been a different feel in the room. Today the family looked coiled tight, ready to take action. Then they’d been melancholy while Ed explained the huge insurance policy and Uncle Henry talked about the seventeen percent of John Clayworth and Company Drew now owned.

  At nineteen he’d damned the facts and figures. Hadn’t cared about the family fortune. His parents were gone. A future without them had looked long and lonely. Until Henry clasped his shoulder and Marilyn, his uncle’s newest wife, gathered Drew against her ample Chanel-clad bosom, declaring they would be his new family.

  He glanced around at Connor, signing papers with one hand and patting Bridget’s shoulder with the other.

  They’d all been there for him. The only family he had left.

  Connor turned away to read a form Ed thrust into his face, and Bridget looked up at Drew. “I’m sorry I forgot to ask about Athena. Dr. Stemmer said you were with her. How is she feelin’?”

  “Definitely better. My guess is that he’ll release her today.”

  Drew glanced down at the form Ed slid in front of him, to hide his feelings from Bridget.

  Athena had been there for him, too. Until the night everything changed.

  He signed the last sheet and pushed it back toward Ed. “This is not going to be as simple and neat as signing insurance claims. Once we notify the police, the story will be plastered all over the media.”