Lifestyles of the Witch & Famous (3 page)

Her stomach knotted. The place
was
beautiful – if you went for this sort of thing, which she didn’t – but it was almost too perfect. Pristine. There was a sterile quality to it. It wasn’t
real
. What a stupid waste of precious natural resources, not to mention the personal resources involved. With all the suffering and need in the world, couldn’t Tyler James think of anything better to do with his wealth?

Steve would have been appalled by this estate. More than appalled. Ashamed. He must have been heartsick to think of his own roots. How godawful ironic and sad. No wonder he’d barely spoken of those roots, never even hinted he had a brother, let alone who that brother was. James was a common name, after all. Who would have thought to tie the gentle artist-ecologist to the hard-hitting Tycoon Tyler? Where the latter obviously cared squat for the natural world, the former had fought to preserve it. How could two brothers be such polar opposites?

“Miss?”

Molly jumped at the voice, then realized it was only the butler, Hanson, who’d ushered them in here. She’d forgotten he was still near. She turned to see him standing at attention just inside the arched entranceway, his expression carefully blank, his dark suit impeccably tailored and pressed.

The perfect English butler.

On a Texas ranch.

Of course, it wasn’t really a ranch, no cattle or anything. There was plenty of open prairie around it, but otherwise the place looked more like a palace. Lots of marble and mirrors and gilt. She’d noticed everyone called it the Ranch though. Maybe because the “Taj Mahal” had already been taken.

“My apologies, miss. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Hanson inclined his head in a small bow, then held aloft the recently recaptured Myna, secure once more in its large cage. “I was wondering where you wished me to put this.”

“Up your arse,” the Myna said in a Cockney-accented gravelly male voice. Goddess knew where he’d learned it. He’d come to them with a full repertoire of sayings and sounds, and added to it daily.

Molly offered the butler a weak smile. He seemed a nice man, despite his unfortunate choice in employers.

“Sorry. The Admiral doesn’t mean it personally.” A lie. She’d always suspected Admiral Byrd knew exactly what he said.

Hanson likely suspected the same thing. His stiff mask cracked into the tiniest of grins. “Even if he did, miss, I’ve been told worse.”

Without waiting for instructions, he marched forward and deposited the cage on a bamboo table set between matching chairs under one of the palms. Molly followed with the twins in tow, both hanging on to her skirt. She’d told them to hang on when they entered the house, because her arms were full of Fang at the time, and she hadn’t wanted the boys running off in all directions. The fact they were still firmly attached proved how nervous they were. It would take a crowbar to pry them off her now.

The flight here had been an adventure for them, a lark. Too much of a lark perhaps, but that was hardly her fault. Ms. Patton
had
told her not to interfere.

So Molly hadn’t. Nuff said.

Uncle Tyler’s house, however – the biggest “house” they’d ever seen – intimidated the kids. Knowing they’d soon meet Uncle Tyler himself had regressed the twins to the clingy phase they’d gone through at age four when she’d put them in nursery school. Jeremy and Josh had adjusted, eventually, to being separated from her a few hours a day, but Molly never had. Nursery school ended up being more anxiety than it was worth, so she hadn’t enrolled them the following year, and had been home-schooling all three boys ever since.

Steve had approved. She had a college degree in physical education and teaching experience of one sort already. Adding academic subjects to her repertoire was no big deal.

Molly sighed. She and Steve had been right in sync when it came to raising the kids. They’d been right in sync on most things. She should have married him. Not the first time he asked. If she’d married him then, these beautiful boys would never have been born. But after Kara died…sweet, generous Kara… She should have accepted his second proposal. Or the third, or fourth…

It became a running joke, him proposing, and Molly putting him off. But there had been no laughter when he first reinstated the subject. Only Steve’s eyes filled with pleading, and hers filled with tears because she couldn’t bring herself to say yes. The memory still haunted her. She glanced at Stevie Jr. hanging on to Fluffy’s leash with both hands, and heard his father’s voice in her head.

“I can’t get down on my knees to beg you this time, Molly, but you’re part of this family, you know that. Shouldn’t we make it legal? The kids love you, and… God help me, so do I. I’ve never stopped. I know it’s unfair of me to offer you half a man. I can’t give you the kind of love I once could. But my heart and mind still work. Everything I have left is yours. Please say that’s enough. Please…will you marry me, Molly Leigh?”

Right on cue, as though he’d pulled the memory straight out of her mind, the Myna bird began singing in Steve’s clear tenor, “‘Now some had jew-els in their hair, like morning stars did shine. But Molly did surpass them all with but her glitterin’ eyes’…”

Ten-year-old Stevie winced at hearing the mimic of his father’s voice, but the twins crowded in closer, sandwiching Molly between them in a hug, and shrilled out the chorus – off key and at the top of their lungs – just like they always did. Programming. Not even their awe at the alien surroundings could deter them from what had become almost a family ritual. Their daddy had trained them well.

“‘An’ we’re all gang east and west, we’re all gang aye-a-glee!’” They squeaked on the ee. “‘We’re all gang east and west, a-courtin’ Molly Lee!’”

-------

Courtin’ Molly Lee…

Tyler’s chest constricted. Several strides into the domed courtyard, and the sound of his brother’s voice halted him in his tracks, struck him like a sledgehammer. He didn’t believe in ghosts, so the singing must have come from something electronic. Maybe Leigh planned to rattle him with a recording of Steve.

If so, she’d succeeded.

Shit.

Except, that was probably just a practice shot – making sure her tape player or whatever worked. She didn’t know he was here yet. Tyler had entered the vast enclosure through a door at the far end and stopped behind a screen of tropical vines, close enough for a little reconnaissance, yet not enough to be noticed or heard. From where he stood, he’d be able to see the beach, but those on it wouldn’t see him unless they stared straight at him. More likely they’d be watching the archway instead, expecting him to use the main entrance.

He leaned forward and peered through the greenery – saw a blond boy of about ten, hanging on to a monster dust mop’s leash.

A boy who looked just like Steve had at that age.

The pain in Tyler’s chest increased. This was going to be even harder than he’d anticipated.

Then
he saw the woman at the center of the scene, and things got hard all right. Well, one thing did anyway. Hard, in fact, took on a whole new meaning.

Ouch.

Now Tyler knew why her name prickled his back hairs. It was the same as in that old Scottish ballad Steve used to sing, just one of many songs. Steve was always singing, laughing, joking…

Okay, so little brother had found himself a real life Molly Lee. So what? Just a coincidence, no more. It shouldn’t seem such a big deal.

Except the woman herself was.

A very big deal.

Gazing at her, Tyler felt more than his back hairs prickling, and he only had a rear view. Ah, but what a rear. Hair like a gold waterfall tumbled in soft waves over her shoulders and nearly to her waist – a perfect hourglass-figured waist that flowed into ripe rounded hips and ass. He could see the lines of her form by virtue of the little boys stuck to her sides, molding her skirt against her.

Oh, to be six years old again and have that kind of license. Tyler was grateful to and envious of the children in the same breath. If the front view was as good as the back, he had a major complication on his hands.

Such as how to keep his mind focused on getting rid of her while the rest of him wanted to get her naked and into bed. The mythical Molly Lee of the ballad couldn’t have been half as enticing as the one he saw now.

“Rowrrr…” Standing a little before him and to the side, Barry let out a throaty growl. “That’s Patton’s
witch
? The one she thinks is practicing some kind of voodoo-hoodoo or something?” he whispered. “I don’t know about you, buddy, but if Ms. Leigh wants to cast any spells on me, I’m going to let her.”

Tyler pierced him with a sharp look, and took care to keep his own voice low. “Don’t you have anything else you could be doing right now?”

“Well, since you ask… No.”

“Then
find
something.” Elbowing past him, Tyler started to step through the vines.

“Okay, I guess I could start calling the agencies to see about a replacement for Patton,” Barry offered agreeably. Too agreeably? “It’s Saturday, but I imagine I can drum up someone.”

Tyler paused in mid-step. Oh, what an awful idea he had. Someone should whack him with a two-by-four. Then again… “Um, let’s hold off on the agencies till Monday. Maybe we won’t need a replacement.”

Maybe they already had one?

What if he offered Leigh the job?

“Uh-oh.” Barry’s eyes went wary. “I know that look, boss-man. And it always scares me.
What
are you thinking?”

Something very stupid probably.

Tyler shoved his hands into his pockets, and struck a casual pose, hoping to appear innocent. Knowing he failed. Innocence wasn’t one of the things he did well. He continued the effort though. Never let it be said he gave up easily.

“That maybe I’ve” – he cleared his throat – “um, been a bit hasty about Ms. Leigh.”

“Hasty? You? Never!”

Sarcastic son of a bitch, wasn’t he? Also lucky that men striving for the guileless look don’t generally hit people.

Tyler shoved his hands deeper instead, and shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “What? I can’t change my mind? I’m just thinking I might have judged her too harshly, that’s all. I’m trying to be fair about this.”

“Holy sh—” The expletive broke off as Barry staggered back a few paces in overblown shock. Then he caught himself and advanced again, eyes narrowed. “Okay, bub, who are you and what have you done with Tyler James?”

Screw guileless.

“Beanpole, if you’re looking for a fat lip, you’re very close to getting one.”

“Hey, man, you’re the one who said the chick was dangerous, an
unstable devil-worshipping kook
, a bad influence on the boys.”

“No, I didn’t.” Tyler might have thought it, but he didn’t recall actually saying it aloud. “Patton’s the one who said that.”

“Well, you believed her!”

“Maybe. But Farrell’s damn black-marker fax memos said the same thing. Sort of.”

“Ty, Farrell just said Molly is a
Wiccan
. Just like some people are Christian, some are Jewish, some Buddhist… Wicca is her
religion
– and an honorable one with high ethics and roots that stretch back to megalithic times when people revered the feminine principle of the universe as the divine creative force. That doesn’t make her dangerous. Wiccans don’t even believe in a devil, much less worship one. They regard all life as sacred and connected; and see deity as multifaceted but balanced energy, manifested archetypically in the form of a supreme Mother Goddess and her consort God. In essence, Wicca is simply an idealistic Earth-centered brand of spirituality that falls under the general heading of ‘Neo-Pagan religion’ – a growing trend in today’s world.”

Uh-huh.

His lanky assistant had been web-surfing again. Tyler could always tell.

“Did you memorize that off a new-age site?”

Barry grinned. “Yeah. Interesting stuff. I’m thinking of becoming a Druid myself.”

He was probably joking, but with Barry you could never be sure.

Tyler sighed. On the one hand, this info did ease his mind. A little. He still didn’t approve of what he’d been told of the lady’s lifestyle and ideology. He still considered her a threat. But the adrenaline rush that hit when he looked at her warned the danger was more to him than the kids. Did he really want her on his staff, nearby every day? And night…

Shit, he hadn’t gotten where he was by playing it safe.

Throwing caution to the breeze – even if it was artificial in here – he met Barry’s eyes. “Okay, okay, she’s a
nature-worshipper
, not a devil-worshipper like Patton said.”

As though that made a difference? God, it was still wacko. But when the wacko came in such attractive packaging…

A bad influence, huh?

Tyler wondered, suddenly, how bad she really was – and couldn’t help hoping the answer was
very
.

Barry’s grin scaled down to a smirk. “Even if she were a devil-worshipper, I should think you’d like that. Didn’t your second wife call you ‘The Prince of Darkness’?”