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  In Plain Sight

  Susanne Matthews, author of Fire Angel

  Avon, Massachusetts

  This edition published by

  Crimson Romance

  an imprint of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  57 Littlefield Street

  Avon, MA 02322

  www.crimsonromance.com

  Copyright © 2013 by M.H. Susanne L. Matthews

  ISBN 10: 1-4405-7124-4

  ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-7124-4

  eISBN 10: 1-4405-7125-2

  eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-7125-1

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art © 123rf.com; istockphoto.com/skynesher

  For my children: Gregory, Jason, and Angela. No mother on earth can be prouder of her children than I am of you. You are my greatest success.

  For my grandchildren: Hannah, Nico, Eleni, Georgia, and Tonio, whose unique views and vocabulary bring my young characters to life. Grandma loves you all.

  Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  About the Author

  More from This Author

  Also Available

  Chapter One

  Misty Starr stared at herself in the full-length mirror in the small dressing room she shared with the other women in the cast and started to laugh, her voice as crisp and clear as a crystal bell. She shook her head from side to side in resignation.

  “Martha has got to be kidding, right? I look like a beach cabana,” she said, referring to the deep pink and white, vertically striped robe she wore that hung far too loosely on her small frame. “I know Micah said I had to stand out, but is this really the look he was going for? I thought stripes were supposed to make you look taller.”

  The costume consisted of a white under-tunic, covered by a long, striped robe, topped with a deep pink shawl that was meant to cover her head as well. Instead of being light and airy, the fabric used for the shawl was thick and stiff and did not sit well on the long, dark brown wig that covered her short hair. The wig itself was loose and had a tendency to slip, since Martha seemed unable to secure it tightly to her head. With the shawl pinned to the wig, the whole thing had a tendency to slide backward, and holding her head up so the whole mess didn’t slip off was a chore.

  “Come on; it’s not that bad,” said Amber, one of the friends Misty had made since moving to Pine Falls who was currently trying valiantly not to laugh at her. “You look cute! I look like I’m wearing a beach towel, and a really ugly one at that.” The tight, narrow stripes in alternating shades of green, brown, mustard, and tan were not the nicest combination of colors, and the robe had a distinctly dowdy look to it.

  “No one is going to take me seriously in this outfit,” said Misty. “Does she honestly think Mary Magdalene went around wearing pink stripes, looking like a hospital candy striper or an escapee from a clown convention? The only things missing are the big red shoes, the fright wig, and the rubber nose! They probably didn’t even have pink yarn for weaving back then. Why couldn’t she just let me wear navy or brown instead? At least your costume looks more like what I would have expected a disciple to wear — mine, not so much.” She turned away from the mirror just as a knock at the door announced company.

  “Are you decent?”

  “Yes!” shouted Amber. “We’re almost ready if you’ve come to chase us up the stairs.”

  The door opened to reveal three people — Micah Jones, the director of the Pine Hill Community Theater Group, his wife, Laura, and an unknown man. With Micah in the lead, they entered the room.

  Misty smiled at her friends and stared at what was by far the most striking man she’d ever seen. She felt the heat of desire curl in her stomach, a sensation she’d been certain she’d never feel again. This is a hell of a time to be dressed like this, she thought. The first man I’ve seen in five years that I find attractive and look at me. What I wore here was nothing special but at least it fit me properly.

  Laura rushed to get into costume, while the men stood beside the door. Misty could see the male cast gathered outside in the hall. Whoever the unfamiliar man was, he was important to Micah, and that meant he was necessary for the production of the play. Maybe he was the unknown financial backer Micah had mentioned, the one who was covering the costs of the production so that all the money raised by the community could go to the local clinic.

  The stranger was tall, well over six feet, with short, dark hair that curled at the neckline, attesting to the fact that it needed a trim. There was a recently healed, jagged scar along the right side of his forehead that ran from the top of his hairline to his eyebrow, but instead of marring his beauty, the mark made him seem more intriguing and reminded her of a similar scar on a young wizard from a series of books she’d loved in her teens. He was clean-shaven, with a Roman nose, and had a generous mouth with full lips currently turned down in a frown.

  He wore black, brushed-denim jeans, which molded to his muscular legs like a second skin, a charcoal gray shirt, and a black, kid-leather jacket. His feet were shod in black leather loafers. Everything about him, from the way he held his head to his shoes, screamed, “Look at me! I’m somebody!” Misty shivered. Whoever he was, he didn’t seem at all pleased to be here.

  Based on his austere clothing and the scowl on his face, Misty decided he must be a serious-minded individual, and from his glare, she’d bet he was no more impressed with her costume than she was. Then again, it might have been her tactless comment that had soured his disposition. For all she knew, if he was the money behind this particular staging of Jesus Christ Superstar, she might have struck a nerve. He might even have chosen the color and the fabric with economy in mind. She knew Martha had bought up all the remnants she could find in town.

  It was her turn to frown. Fabulous guys like this were either gay or married. Hell, Martha, the wardrobe director, might even be his wife. Hadn’t Amber said Martha’s husband was a trust-fund hottie? Well, this man was most definitely hot, and the clothes he wore so well shrieked money. The unexpected shot to her libido momentarily had her forgetting who and what she was. Reality quickly reasserted itself.

  Misty had been living in Pine Falls for eight months now, and she really didn’t want to move again. She and her daughter, Debbie, were happy here. This man was a stranger,
and strangers spelled danger. For more than four years, she’d run from relationships and people, including confident, powerful men like this one, avoiding friendships and commitment. She’d kept to herself, believing that if she did, she’d be safe. It hadn’t worked, and good people had died. What made her think stepping outside the box to become a member of this community and make friends here would be a wise thing to do? At the moment, it looked as if she might have made a colossal error.

  Her mind focused on the present and the gorgeous stranger who reminded her of a sleek black cat, whose stormy, gray-blue eyes seemed to look right through her. She shuddered. This man was dangerous. He walked with the grace and ease of a panther on the prowl, wary of everything and everyone in the room. He might look like he could purr under the right circumstances, but at the moment, it was more likely he’d rip your throat out if he got the chance.

  Micah walked over to the center of the room with the stranger following close behind him. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t seem to get her eyes to cooperate with her brain. She was like a moth drawn to the flame, unable to escape its destiny.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Micah said as he and the newcomer approached the center of the room, capturing the attention of the female cast and the men who’d filed into the dressing room. “I have some good news and some bad news for you tonight.” The cast gave a group groan. It seemed as if this musical was cursed; they’d been practicing since September, and every time they thought they had some glitch worked out, something else went wrong. In fact, it had been one of those minor disasters that had resulted in Misty’s joining the company.

  In September, Amos, the agent who’d brought them to Pine Falls, had helped her purchase a small, two-story house just down the street from his. With his help, she’d established a solid cover story, and she and her daughter had fallen in love with their new home, the first real one they’d had since she’d made the fateful decision to testify against the Irish mob. Amos had put in a good word and helped her get a job as secretary at the local elementary school.

  She’d been talked into joining the theater group after Amber had heard her sing karaoke the night of the school’s Christmas party. Her rendition of “I Love Rock and Roll” had brought the room to its feet. Since the theater group’s best soprano had been transferred to Oregon, they hadn’t been able to find a replacement. Misty’s voice was just what they needed to fill the void.

  Although Misty had wanted the role, she’d declined because she hadn’t felt right asking Beryl, Amos’s wife, to babysit. When she’d mentioned it to Charlotte, her widowed neighbor who had a four-year-old of her own, she’d offered to babysit for Misty.

  After more than four years of running, hiding, working, and looking after Debbie, Misty had needed some “me” time and had finally agreed. She enjoyed being part of the theater group and had even been persuaded to go on a couple of dates, but no one had pushed her buttons.

  She shook her head and tried to focus on what Micah was saying because the man beside him worried her. Who was he? What did he want? Why was he here? The fear she’d cultivated all these years ate at her.

  “I got a call from Jolene on Monday. Everything is fine, but she fell down a few steps at the mall last weekend. She claimed she was pushed — we all know how Jolene likes to exaggerate — and her doctor has ordered bed rest until after the baby is born, which means I needed to find someone who could handle the music quickly since we open next week. By the way, Jolene needs peace and quiet, so don’t all go rushing over to see her tomorrow, okay?”

  “What are you, a mind reader?” asked Amber.

  “No,” he replied, “Laura told me to say that. As a doctor, she knows what Jolene needs better than I do. Anyway, I’d like you all to meet Nick Anthony. He’s a retired musician and has experience with this type of performance. He’ll be taking over. The rest of you can move upstairs to the stage and get ready, but I’d ask Misty and Amber to wait a second.” The men turned and left the room.

  Micah took Nick by the arm and all but dragged him across the floor to where they stood a little apart from the rest of the cast.

  “Nick, I’d like you to meet Misty Starr and Amber Collins, two of my Marys. Amber has the role of Mary, the mother of Jesus, and Misty is Mary Magdalene; she’s the one I mentioned earlier.”

  Misty pulled together every shred of self-control she possessed and stuck out her hand to shake his. She could do this; she could touch this man and remain unscathed. He was a stranger; she would survive — she had to.

  “Good to meet you ladies,” Nick said, completely ignoring the extended hand. “I’ll speak with each of you later, if not tonight then before the next rehearsal. This run-through will give me an opportunity to hear your voices, and then I’ll see if I have any pointers for you. I’ll be recording some of the rehearsal to help me with that.” With a curt nod, he followed Micah to the door and waited while Micah talked to one of the stagehands.

  Upset by his lack of common courtesy, Misty withdrew her hand. Although he frightened her, he also intrigued her. His voice, with a slight accent she knew couldn’t be Irish — she’d recognize an Irish accent anywhere — was smooth, like warm caramel, and didn’t fit the aloof look he gave her and the frown marring his face. She shivered. What had she ever done to make him look at her that way? And why is he staring at her?

  Could he be one of them? Could he be a trained assassin hoping to earn what she knew was a fat bounty on her head? She had no doubt he could be a dangerous man if crossed. She’d learned to look for the underlying signs of violence in everyone she met. She saw repressed anger and frustration in Mr. Anthony, if that was his real name. Not recognizing those signs five years ago had almost cost her her life. At first glance she’d thought him a stranger, but slowly she realized there was something familiar about him, and when she gave credence to that, it agitated the acidic butterflies that had invaded her stomach.

  “Well, that was rude and awkward,” huffed Amber, keeping her voice just above a whisper. “He completely ignored your offer to shake his hand! Maybe he’s one of those germaphobes — you know, doesn’t shake hands, afraid he might catch something. You know the type. Or he could be some kind of superstar who refuses to let common people touch him. Either way, he’s a jerk!” She snorted and stared at Nick as if he were a parasite.

  “Don’t let it bother you, Amber.” Misty fought to keep her terror in check. “I’m not offended. I’ve known more than my fair share of rude people, and although he may not have shaken my hand, he did speak to us. I just wish he’d stop staring at me like that.”

  Despite everything, he attracted her physically as no man had ever done, and she longed to reach out and touch him, but the way he stared at her — the look on his face — made her blood run cold. He stood by the door waiting for Micah, a scowl firmly fixed on his face. Frustrated, on the verge of panic, she fought the childish urge to stick out her tongue at him or flip him the bird, anything to provoke a response from him. Why was he focused on her like this?

  Laura, Micah’s wife as well as Pine Hills’s only doctor and a member of the play’s chorus, had finished putting on her costume and came over to join them. “Well, you’ve met the new music director. What do you think? I can’t imagine how Micah convinced him to do this; I’ve been after Nick for more than a year to get out and do something,” she said matter-of-factly. “This is the last thing I thought he’d ever do. Well?”

  Misty felt the butterflies settle, and she relaxed. He wasn’t a stranger; he’d been in Pine Falls longer than she had. She’d let that wild imagination of hers conjure up all kinds of demons. If Debbie had inherited her imagination, it’s no wonder she has nightmares. She looked at the man who’d captured her interest. Now that she wasn’t seeing him as a potential threat, she noticed the stiffness of his shoulders, the way his hands fisted at his sides, and the way he held himself, tense and alert.
She saw that the grimace he wore wasn’t one of anger, but of worry. She recognized the emotion; it was one with which she was intimately familiar — that fear of failure, of not being good enough, of being rejected.

  Feeling more like herself, she smiled, prepared to offer him an olive branch, but although he was looking straight at her, he ignored her. She shrugged.

  Too bad, she thought. I think we could have been friends.

  She’d realized since she’d arrived in Pine Falls that friends were important — far more necessary than she’d ever thought they could be. Without them, a person was lonely and lost, the way she’d been until recently. Now, she’d fight for the life she had built here.

  “I think he’s rude,” Amber answered Laura, interrupting Misty’s musing, this time speaking loud enough to be overheard, and Nick turned toward her. “Look at him staring at Misty as if she were a cockroach. I’ve a good mind to go over there and say something.”

  “Shush, he’ll hear you, Amber,” warned Misty.

  A deaf man could hear you, she thought, embarrassed that her friend should take the snub so personally.

  “Well, it’s true.” Amber snorted. “You’re too nice. One of these days someone is going to stomp on your parade, mark my word. You need to learn to stand up for yourself.”

  Misty was chilled by Amber’s premonition. Hadn’t she been stomped on enough already?

  “Amber!” Laura’s voice was filled with reprimand. “He isn’t staring at Misty or at anyone else. Didn’t Micah say anything? I guess not. What is it about men and stating the obvious? Nick is blind.”

  Misty watched color suffuse Amber’s cheeks as her own grew hot. She felt awful. She looked straight at Nick’s mesmerizing gray-blue eyes and noticed they were unfocused, the way eyes tended to be when someone was daydreaming. Why hadn’t she seen that earlier? Being so worried about her safety had made her oblivious to the fact that not only was he not staring at her, he probably hadn’t even realized she was there.