Not a sound. Not a reaction of any kind. It was as though the house slept. Daisy shivered. Almost like it was caught in some other moment in time or an alternate universe. Another dimension, maybe, like Brigadoon. Maybe it wasn’t time for them to wake up, yet.
Or maybe he simply wasn’t home.
She paced in front of the door, wondering what she should do next. And that’s when she noticed another oddity about the doorway, a reflective gleam buried in the trim work. She paused in her pacing and studied the anomaly. Son of a gun. A camera. Someone was watching and she’d bet her next four impressively large royalty checks she knew who it was.
Well, now. Wasn’t that interesting? She might stink at math, but she could solve this particular equation. She’d found the God of Geekdom hiding in an unmarked valley in Colorado, buried behind thick walls with a door but no handle, the place as unwelcoming as he could make it. Oh, she could add up those numbers to equal …
She marched straight up to the camera and tilted her face so she could glare directly at the tiny circle of glass. “Justice? You either open this door or I’m going to get on the phone and call every media source I can think of and tell them where you live. And then I’m going to get on the internet and post the location on every geek-site I can find.”
An instant later the front door emitted a persnickety click and eased inward a fraction. Daisy gave it a shove, not the least surprised when it opened to her touch. She stepped across the threshold into a chilly gloom that left her squinting. The door swung closed behind her and the dead bolt slammed home with a rifle-sharp retort, locking her inside.
“If that’s meant to scare me, you didn’t succeed,” she announced. Then in an undertone, “Intimidated me a little bit, maybe, but you didn’t scare me.”
Daisy glanced around the foyer, struggling to get a good look at her surroundings. Difficult, considering the lack of natural light. What was the deal with windows around here? The cold air contained a stale, dusty quality, as though the area was rarely used. Justice certainly hadn’t wasted any of his trillions heating this section of his homestead and she shivered in the confines of her thin coat, missing the Florida warmth and sunshine.
She took another step into the dimness. Without any carpeting to absorb the sound, the impact of her shoes against the slate flooring bounced in noisy protest off the featureless walls. She looked around, curiosity combining with nervousness. The huge entranceway lacked the usual bits and pieces most foyers contained. No tables or racks or mirrors or pictures or freestanding artwork. Just … emptiness. Well, and dust. She turned in a slow circle looking for a light switch and coming up empty. Okay, that was just weird.
What little she could see through the gloom of the surrounding rooms spoke of huge expanses of space as stark and empty as the foyer, though she could see their potential in the flow and symmetry of the overall structure. She particularly liked the liberal use of wood, not to mention the fact that the other rooms had honest-to-goodness windows, even if they were shuttered. Why in the world would he live in such a magnificent home and keep it closed up and empty? It didn’t make any sense.
Before she could work up the nerve to explore, she caught the hard clip of boots ringing against floorboards, the sound echoing through the painful emptiness. The footsteps moved in her direction at a steady, unhurried pace. For some reason that firm, deliberate tread added to the intimidation factor, his coming an inescapable certainty.
No turning back now.
A moment later his impressive form filled a doorway to her right, one draped in dense shadow. Everything inside of her blossomed to life, responding to the man instinct told her was Justice, even though she couldn’t see him clearly. She closed her eyes, fighting against an almost overpowering urge to race toward him and throw herself into his arms. To allow all she kept bottled inside to burst free, like spring sunshine burning away the ice damming a river’s reckless flow.
“How did you find me, Daisy?” His cold voice cut through the darkness with knifelike sharpness, confirming his identity. Not that she had any doubt.
She sighed. How like him to skip over the social niceties. “Hello, Justice. I’m fine, thanks. Yes, it’s been a long drive. Why, yes, I’d love something to drink.”
He didn’t respond immediately. And then, “You threatened to expose me to the media.”
“You wouldn’t let me in. It was the only leverage I had.” This was ridiculous. She crossed the foyer toward him, feeling the bond between them tighten and ensnare her with each step she took. “Come on, Justice. Get us something to drink and let’s sit down and talk. It’s important.”
The closer she came the more clearly she could see him. Dear heaven, but he’d changed during the months they’d been apart. An icy remoteness cascaded off of him in frosty waves. He’d become harder, more self-contained than ever. What had happened to cause such a change?
She didn’t dare touch him. No point in risking frostbite, though part of her longed to. “Are you all right?” she asked in concern.
“No.”
Another thought occurred, a horrifying thought. “Oh, Justice, are you ill?”
“My health is perfect, thank you.”
Then what in the world had happened to him? She stiffened. He couldn’t have turned into this glacial, winter-bound man as a result of their encounter at the engineering conference. In order for that to be the case, their night together would have had to mean something to him, impacted his life in some way. And though it broke her heart to admit it, she’d long ago come to the conclusion that those glorious hours had meant nothing to him. Less than nothing. Otherwise he’d have tracked her down. At the very least he’d have responded to the endless letters she’d sent him.
He lifted an eyebrow. “You wanted something to drink before you left?”
Daisy released her breath in a sigh. This was going to be even harder than she’d anticipated. “I would, yes.”
Justice led the way down a wide hall into a huge, impressive kitchen that looked like something out of a futuristic movie, though it seemed to be missing the normal collection of appliances. “Lights,” he requested and instantly a bank of recessed lighting flared to life.
She stared in wonder, impressed. “Is that how you turn on the lights around here?”
“Yes, if your voice is coded for computer authorization.” He paused a beat, his smile set well below frigid. “Which, yours is not. Water, tea, pop or something stronger?”
“Water’s fine.” She swiped her hands along the sides of her jeans, fighting nerves. “I wouldn’t have told, you know. Where you live, I mean,” she added for clarification.
He tapped a swift code onto a black glass plate affixed to the wall. With a soft hiss a pair of bottles slid out from a slot in the wood paneling. He handed her one, the temperature so cold her fingers went instantly numb. Twisting off the lid of the other, he stared at her while he took a long swallow. “I know you wouldn’t have told anyone,” he said.
“Really?” For some reason his certainty pleased her and she relaxed enough to smile. “How do you know?”
“Because Pretorius has jammed your cell signal. And he’ll continue to jam it until I tell him otherwise.”
Her smile faded. “When do you intend to tell him otherwise?” she asked warily.
“As soon as my uncle and I relocate. Until then, you’ll remain here as our guest.”
She paused with the bottle halfway to her mouth. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“But … but you can’t do that,” she sputtered.
“Watch me.”
Dear heavens, he was serious. She could see it in the hard glitter of his eyes and intractable set of his jaw.