By Invitation Only Read online

  BY INVITATION ONLY

  KIT TUNSTALL

  MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-309-8

  Mobipocket (PRC) ISBN # 1-84360-310-1

  Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

  Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), & HTML

  (c) Copyright Kit Tunstall, 2002.

  All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave.

  Ellora's Cave, Inc. USA

  Ellora's Cave Ltd, UK

  This e-book may not be reproduced in whole or in part by email forwarding, copying, fax, or any other mode of communication without author permission.

  Edited by Ann Richardson

  Cover Art by Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

  Warning:

  The following material contains strong sexual content meant for mature readers. BY INVITATION ONLY has been rated NC17, erotic, by three individual reviewers. We strongly suggest storing this electronic file in a place where young readers not meant to view this ebook are unlikely to happen upon it. That said, enjoy…

  Chapter One

  The dress arrived with a cryptic note. Tessa opened the door at the first knock, after the broken doorbell gave a strident peal that faded into a torturous shriek. A UPS driver, wearing a dark brown uniform, handed her a clipboard. “Delivery for T. Grenville.”

  “That's me.”

  “Sign in the electronic box.” He indicated the laser pen attached to the clipboard, and Tessa scrawled her name.

  She took the large box from him, and he left, whistling Old Susannah off-key. Tessa brought the box in the house and closed the door behind her.

  After she set the box on the threadbare couch, Tessa searched for a pair of scissors or a box cutter. She settled for a kitchen knife and returned to the box. She carefully opened the tape. She expected to find the wallpaper and carpet samples Linden-Ashby Interiors had promised to send by mid-week. It was already Friday.

  Tessa removed the tissue paper and gasped at what lay beneath it. It was a garment of some kind, made of emerald green velvet and satin. Tessa lifted the lid of the box to verify the address.

  T. Grenville

  624 Bluegate Rd., Rt. 2

  Naples, Oregon

  It was supposed to be her package, but she knew it couldn't actually be hers.

  Even though she was positive it was a mistake, Tessa lifted out the material. It fell to the floor with a soft whisper, as the velvet slid through her fingers. It was an elegant evening dress, reminiscent of a ball gown from more than a century ago, minus the bustle.

  The fitted bodice plunged daringly, and was trimmed with shiny satin in the same shade of green as the dress. The sleeves were tiny caps of wispy lawn, in a paler shade of green. The skirt flared out at the waist, and the hemline was piped with satin. When she turned the dress, Tessa found a discreet zipper at the back.

  Very gently, Tessa laid the dress across the worn couch and looked into the box. She hoped to find an explanation. Instead, she found a pair of emerald green kid slippers—just her size, a seven narrow—a long black cloak, and a mask. She lifted the mask from the paper to admire its beauty. It was plain green satin, with tiny seed pearls stitched at the corners of the eyes to imitate feathers. It was a half-mask, meant to cover only from her eyebrows to the bridge of her nose. Satin ribbons extended from the sides, to fasten the mask around her face.

  She gave into temptation and lifted the mask over her face before she walked to the cracked mirror in the hallway that had hung there since long before she was born. The mask brightened the hint of green in her brown eyes and minimized her blunt nose. Her mouth appeared full and lush, and the color of the mask was very complimentary with her russet curls.

  With a sigh, Tessa removed the mask and laid it beside the dress and slippers, before she delved back into the box. When she found a small cream card, at first she assumed it would have the owner's name listed. Instead, in bold, slashed letters, the note read:

  A car will be sent for you at eight this evening, and will wait exactly five minutes. If you don't come out, or if you aren't alone, the car will drive off. The dress and accessories are yours with my compliments, regardless of your decision, Tessa.

  There was no signature or clue as to who had sent the note. The sight of her name in the black scrawl sent a frisson of excitement darting through her. The UPS driver had not accidentally delivered this box to her. Clearly, the sender had intended she receive it.

  It was probably Sue Ellen. Her best friend was notorious for strange gifts and games of intrigue, and Tessa didn't imagine the four hundred miles that now separated her from Portland would keep Sue Ellen from her fun. Tessa put the card and dress back in the box, then haphazardly tossed the shoes and mask atop it, before she covered it all with the cloak.

  It was a shame the dress would go to waste, but she didn't believe in taking chances. Both times she had done so, it had cost her too dearly. First a broken heart, followed by a ruined career years later.

  She returned to the kitchen where she had been cleaning. Tessa replaced the rubber gloves she had removed in her haste to open the door and attacked the years of gunk left on the stove by her disinterested father. She had been at it less than five minutes when she impatiently ripped off the gloves and tossed them aside.

  She muttered to herself as she stomped into the living room. Tessa tripped on a hole in the carpet and barely regained her balance. She kicked the spot before she returned to the couch and gently lifted the dress, shoes, and mask from the box. With an impatient sigh, she walked up the creaking stairs and hung the dress in the closet of the room she was using.

  Whoever had bought it had obviously spent a large sum, and she didn't want it wrinkled beyond recognition. Tessa wanted to return it in good shape, as soon as she figured out whom to return it to.

  Satisfied, Tessa left the master bedroom, which had stood unused for over a year before she moved back to the house. She returned to her chores in the kitchen, but the dress beckoned to her.

  If it was a prank by Sue Ellen, there was no harm in indulging her friend. She couldn't think of anyone else who would do such a thing, and the thought of wearing the dress was tempting.

  Be reasonable, she chided herself. If the person who sent the dress wasn't her friend, they could have any number of motives. It was better to be safe than sorry.

  But would she be sorry if she played it safe?

  Chapter Two

  The car arrived promptly at eight. Tessa peeked out the ancient curtains, worn thin with age. Only a coating of dust maintained any semblance of privacy. The car was dark and sleek, and a uniformed driver got out from behind the wheel and stood by the rear passenger door.

  Tessa straightened the dress, although she knew it was perfect. It seemed to have been made for her personally. With one last automatic glance in the aged mirror, she opened the door and stepped into the chilly night. The cloak was woolen and surprisingly warm. She huddled into it as she walked down the cracked stones of the walk her father had redone when she was nine. Twenty-two years ago, she realized with a start.

  When she got to the car, the man doffed his hat and bowed to her. “Good evening, madam.”

  “Hello.” Tessa's stomach clenched with nerves, and a fine sheen of sweat glistened on her brow. When she got her hands on Sue Ellen, she was going to give her a tongue-lashing.

  The driver held open the door, but Tessa hesitated. “Whom do you work for? Where are you taking me?”

  He smiled. “I was told not to answer any questions. I'm also to remind you to put on the mask before we arrive, Ms. Grenville.”

  Tessa stared at the opened door, into the interior of the car. This was her last chance to back out. Take a chance, urged the part of her that had never left behind her teenage years
; the spontaneous side of her that had led her into trouble many times, many years ago.

  Look what happened last time.

  Take a chance, the voice repeated.

  With a last, wistful look at the decrepit farmhouse, with its sagging fence and forlorn air, Tessa slid into the car. The driver closed the door behind her with a resounding thunk, and Tessa imagined how an inmate felt when the bars slammed shut behind them for the first time.

  The seat was plush and comfortable. Tessa leaned back and eyed the inside of the car. It contained a small mini-bar, a television, and a sound system, along with a panel of buttons and switches. Not too elaborate, but elegant enough for tonight's mystery.

  Was she doing the right thing? Impulsiveness tended to lead her into trouble. She had made many mistakes as a foolish teenager, back when she'd allowed impulse to rule her nature. She still could not completely forget the biggest mistake of her young life. She winced at the memory, and the inevitable tide of embarrassment it brought with it. She struggled to push it away, but it insisted on playing through her mind, despite her best efforts.

  When the car pulled to a halt, she was jarred out of her thoughts of the past. With a start, Tessa realized she had daydreamed away the time and hadn't even bothered to look out the window to see which direction the driver went. She could be anywhere, in any direction from town. “Idiot,” she said under her breath.

  “Excuse me?” The driver opened the door in time to catch part of her mutterings. “Did you say something, ma'am?”

  Tessa forced a smile as she slid from the car. “Never mind.”

  He cleared his throat. “Your mask, Ms. Grenville.”

  Tessa grimaced as she dug the mask from her evening bag and tied the satin straps around the back of her head. The mask partially obscured her peripheral vision, but she was still able to see well enough to make out the house.

  It was large, built of pine, and stained to accentuate the natural beauty. A large garage was attached to the side, and a privacy fence extended around the property.

  “Just go on up to the house.”

  “Thank you.” Tessa walked up the steep drive and approached the front door. There was no doorbell, so she lifted the brass knocker and rapped firmly against the door.

  A tall man wearing a dark suit opened it. He had thick, chestnut hair, but the mask that completely covered his face obscured his features. “Tessa.” His voice was deep and smoky, but didn't sound familiar.

  “Who are you?”

  “Save the questions for later. Right now, dinner is waiting.”

  She bit her lip and slowly entered the house, poised to flee at a second's notice. She surveyed the well-lit interior, admiring the art deco furniture and glass topped tables. They appeared to be alone in the elegant room.

  Tessa reached for the strings of her mask, but stopped when he said, “Leave it, Tessa. We will stay behind our masks awhile longer, I think.”

  She dropped her hands and eyed him warily. He made no move to pounce upon her, and Tessa slowly relaxed enough to remove her cloak. He took it from her and draped it over a coat rack by the door.

  “Why have you brought me here?”

  The mask revealed his lips, and he merely placed a finger to his mouth. “Dinner.” He started walking, and she followed him through the house, which was as lovely and as expensively decorated as the living room.

  He led her into a small dining room, where a round table, set for two, awaited them. Candles provided the only illumination since the overhead lights were off. They lent the room a romantic glow. Fine china, crystal, and flatware awaited their use, and he seated her in the brocade-upholstered chair.

  Tessa blinked as he moved to a cart laden with dishes and began to place them on the table. The evening grew more surreal by the moment. Her stomach growled as he lifted off the cover of a metal tray containing poached salmon, and she was reminded she hadn’t eaten since early afternoon.

  “Poached salmon, almandine green beans, arugula salad, and potato leek soup.” He waved at the dishes. “Help yourself, Tessa.”

  Almost as if in a dream state, Tessa served herself from the dishes, and then watched as he transferred the food to his plate with efficient movements. His fingers were long and elegant, and his hands were the perfect size—not bearish, yet not feminine either. After they had selected, he stacked the serving dishes back on the cart and took the seat across from her.

  “Why have you returned to Naples?”

  Tessa nearly choked on a mouthful of soup. She sipped from her wine, both to regain her breath and to stall. She had expected this question, had rehearsed an answer, and she hoped her response was glib.

  “I felt it was time to return home to renew old ties.”

  “But you have no ties. Your mother passed away seven years ago, and your father last year. All your friends have gone. Even the Hawthorne family left after they sold the lumber mill, and it was shut down.”

  Tessa winced at the mention of the Hawthornes, but raised her chin and didn't answer.

  “Cat got your tongue?” His lips twisted. “Perhaps you just don't want to tell me the real reason? Maybe you don't want me to know you published a piece in the newspaper, and the man you accused of misconduct was, in fact, an ordained minister. You dragged his name through the mud, and he was innocent. His accuser was simply seeking his fifteen minutes, if I’m not mistaken.”

  Heat suffused her face, and Tessa found herself stuttering, “I believed my sources were reliable. I had to move quickly, before another reporter got the story.”

  He inclined his head. “I'm not criticizing or judging you. I'm merely letting you know I know everything about you.”

  Tessa tightened her grip on the glass as the fear she had gamely ignored swam to the surface of her mind. “How? Why?”

  “No questions.”

  “You can ask questions, but I'm not allowed to?” She couldn't hide her outrage.

  He nodded. “That's about the size of things. You're free not to answer, and at any time, you may walk out. But if you leave too soon, you'll never know who I am, or why I've brought you here.”

  “I don't really care.” She lifted her glass and drank to moisten her dry throat.

  He laughed. “Then why are you here? I've heard you used to have an insatiable curiosity, Tessa. I imagine that hasn't changed.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe not, but I've gained wisdom and common sense throughout the years.”

  He grinned. “Really?” His tone clearly revealed he didn’t believe her. “I find it—interesting—that you chose to accept my invitation.”

  Tessa slammed down her glass. “Have you asked me here merely to torment me?”

  “The reason behind my invitation will be revealed in good time.” He returned to his meal, and, after a brief hesitation, Tessa did the same. She couldn't deny her curiosity, and he had said she was free to leave at any time.

  He seemed to sense her temporary acquiescence, and he resumed asking her questions. “What will you do now?”

  Seeing no harm in answering his questions—as long as they didn't get too personal—she said, “I believe I'll write a book.”

  “Can you afford to?”

  Her finances were a bit pinched, but that was none of his affair. “I'll manage. If not, Lou told me he'd give me a job writing Arts for the Naples Gazette.”

  “How the mighty have fallen.”

  Her eyes narrowed at his tone. “I get the impression you don't like me, for some reason. Why go through this charade? Is it just to humiliate me?”

  Some emotion flashed through his eyes, fast as quicksilver, before it was gone. “I don't dislike you. I apologize for my comment.” His voice was oddly wistful.

  Tessa remained stubbornly silent.

  “Is there a man in your life?”

  “I thought you knew everything about me?” she challenged, with a toss of her long hair.

  “I was making small talk, but if you want, we can do this another way. Jo
rge Garcia was your last lover, gone for more than eighteen months. You didn't like his possessiveness or quick temper, and his family did not approve of your relationship. Before him, there was Bill Perkins, who left you for a cellist. Then there was the banker, the police officer, and your boss at the paper, many years ago, before he was your boss. Shall I continue back through college? Maybe even into high school?”

  His voice dropped lower, to a whisper. “Should we discuss what your intimate preferences are?”

  She had a feeling he knew everything about her, and it was definitely creepy. Tessa removed the napkin from her lap and laid it on the table. “I'm leaving now.”

  His voice lost its cool superiority and became almost earnest. “Please, don't. I know I'm not doing this right, but this is the first time I've done anything like this. Please bear with me a little longer.”

  Her brows furrowed. “No more personal topics?”

  He hesitated. “I'll try.”

  Tessa returned her attention to the food, though she had lost her appetite. She picked at her plate and waited for the next question.

  “How are the renovations coming along?”

  Finally, a safe topic. “Slowly. The house has fallen into disrepair.”

  “It's quite old. Something like sixty years, isn't it?”

  Tessa shrugged. “Could be. My parents bought it the year they married.” She counted back through her memory. “Forty-seven years ago?”

  “Are you doing all the work yourself?”

  “As much as possible…” she trailed off. “This conversation is getting us nowhere. Why have you brought me here?”

  “Patience.” He rose and left her there. For a moment, Tessa thought she had angered him into leaving, and she was debating about leaving herself when he returned with dessert. He set crème brûlée before her. “I hope you like this.”

  The experience was becoming more surreal by the moment. She was surprised by her ability to respond so inanely, in light of the situation. “It looks wonderful.”