скачать книгу бесплатно
At times unbearably hard, watching the person you love most withering away, losing any capacity to care for herself. “Finally she begged me to find a place for her in some facility. I couldn’t do it.”
His voice deepened. “She was lucky to have you.”
When he sat back, she could feel him waiting for the half brother to make an appearance.
She’d thought if she could banish that horrid man from her thoughts, memories of him might fade. She hadn’t spoken his name in eight months, but the image of his face was as vivid as the day the police had banged on her door, Scarpini smirking alongside of them.
But rather than bottling it up, perhaps talking about it would help exorcise some of the pain, humiliation and anger she still felt.
She concentrated on the candlelight casting sparkling prisms off her crystal glass. “A few weeks before my mother died, a man showed up claiming to be my father’s illegitimate son.”
“You didn’t believe him?”
That familiar battle raged inside of her. Was he? Wasn’t he? Did it make a difference if they were related? she wondered. After the agony Scarpini had put her through, she had no desire to find out.
“He was very convincing…” She thought back. “But I didn’t trust his eyes.”
“The windows to the soul.”
She looked from the candlelight across the table. Tristan’s eyes were clear and filled with unswerving strength and sound purpose.
“Drago Scarpini’s were empty. He seemed to look right through me. And his smile…” Icy tendrils trailed down her back and she shivered. “His smile was cold. But he charmed my mother and tried to convince her that my father would want her to acknowledge him now.” In a lowered voice, she confessed the rest. “I heard him speak with her about changing her will.”
Tristan’s chin kicked up. “Sounds as if he was an expert at befriending vulnerable women. A real predator.”
“The doctors had given her a few months more to live but she died sooner than expected.”
“And Romeo didn’t get a slice of the pie.”
Her throat constricted. She wouldn’t tell Tristan the whole story. He didn’t need to hear how she’d been accused of murdering her own mother. It was just too ugly. “After a lot of soul-searching, I decided to gift him ten thousand dollars from the estate.”
Tristan looked disappointed. “Ella, you’re not even sure you share the same father. Even if you do, he shouldn’t have expected anything from your mother’s estate.”
“My lawyer said the same. But right now I don’t have any desire to go through the ordeal of finding out if we are related, and the money was something I felt compelled to give.” She half shrugged. “I guess to settle my conscience and be done with it.”
There was no right answer, just the memory of her father and what he might have done.
“I’m surprised he hasn’t hassled you,” Tristan said.
“Those types usually don’t know when to back down.”
A chill crawled up her spine. She had the urge to check over her shoulder, but she shucked it off and instead announced, “It’s all in the past now.”
The waiter took dessert orders and the rest of the evening they spoke about Tristan’s work—the same important project he needed to discuss with the mayor. Ella was sorry when the evening ended and they arrived back home.
As they moved through the garage door into the kitchen, she put her bag on the counter and turned around. Tristan stood close behind her, his expression unreadable, his presence overpowering…his kissable mouth almost too close to resist.
Pressing her palms against her jumping stomach, Ella manufactured an easy smile. “Can I get you anything before we go to bed?”
She withered down to her shoes.
Bad choice of words.
“Thanks, no.” His brow pinched. “But there’s some-thing I want to ask you, Ella. I have a function to attend next weekend. A black-tie affair. I wondered if you’d like to come.”
The flock of butterflies she’d been holding released in her stomach. Was he asking her on a real date? Her? Little Miss Ordinary?
“There’s a bigwig in property analysis going,” he went on. “I’d like the chance to speak with him in a more relaxed setting, but it’s a couples only night. Would you mind helping me out? After tonight, I realize you’d make the perfect companion for that kind of thing.” He laughed softly. “I’ll try not to make it too boring for you.”
She closed her parted lips and willed the silly stinging from behind her nose.
So this was a business proposition?
Well, of course it was. Ridiculous for her to think anything else. Next weekend he wanted a date who was polite, presentable and knew her place. A platonic someone who wouldn’t interfere with the business he wanted to discuss.
The housekeeper in her glad rags.
But she was being overly sensitive, she thought. Tristan was only being honest and it wasn’t as if she had anything better to do.
Her lips curved. “Sure. I don’t mind helping out.”
“Excellent.” He smiled but she glimpsed something else swimming in the depths of his eyes.
No, that was pure fantasy. The only stars in this room were in her eyes and she needed to see clearly or she was in danger of being hurt—and it wouldn’t be Tristan’s fault, but hers for being so silly.
And yet Tristan continued to hold her eyes with his, then his head slanted and he came a step closer. When he reached for her, Ella stiffened and her surroundings seemed to recede and dim. But he didn’t kiss her. Rather he touched her left earring, his hand near her neck warming the skin.
His voice was husky, deep. “I’ve wanted to say all night…these are very becoming.”
Could he hear her heart thumping? “They’re not real,” she managed to say.
“Pity. Diamonds would suit you.” His gaze lingered, over her ear, down her jaw, along her trembling lips, causing a fire to flicker up her neck and light her cheeks. For a moment she thought he might lean forward and touch his lips to hers, that he might take her in his arms and kiss her as she’d dreamed so often that he would.
The possibility seemed to hang between them, real and weighted with temptation, but then he merely smiled and moved away.
“Good night, Ella,” he said over his shoulder.
She let out her breath on a quiet sigh. “Good night.”
She was about to float off to her bedroom when the kitchen extension rang. Tristan had gone, perhaps already on the stairs that led to his bedroom. She’d take a message. Nothing could be that important this late on a Saturday night.
“Tristan Barkley’s residence.” She waited but no reply. “Hello.” Ella frowned. “Anyone there?”
As the clock on the wall ticked out the seconds, in a dark recess of her mind she imagined the hand clutch-ing the other receiver. Had a flash of the face smirking at her irritation.
Slamming the phone down, she tried to catch her sudden shortness of breath. She touched her brow and felt the damp sheen of panic.
But she was overreacting. It was the talk of Scarpini over dinner and the fact the inheritance had come through that had her jumping to conclusions. That call had merely been a wrong number.
Still, before going to bed, she checked the back door—not once but twice.
Chapter Three
The following Thursday morning, Tristan swung out from behind his desk to greet his brother, who was striding into the city penthouse suite. Tristan clapped his arms around Josh and they gave each other a hearty hug.
When they broke apart, Josh jokingly tried to spin Tristan around. “Do you ever leave this office? I think you might be growing roots.”
Tristan laughed, always happy to see his younger, wisecracking brother, who many people mistook for his twin. “Just because you’re in love, doesn’t mean the rest of the world grinds to a stop.”
Josh’s dimples deepened. “You sure about that?”
Tristan pretended to cringe. “Ooh, you have it bad.”
“Bad enough to propose.”
Tristan’s jaw dropped. “Marriage?”
“Even got down on one knee.”
Tristan took Josh’s hand and shook with gusto. “Congratulations. That’s wonderful, just…unexpected. How long have you and Grace been dating?”
Looking every bit the high-powered executive in his tailored business suit, Josh crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels. “Three months and I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. Grace and I are meant to be. I can’t wait to make her my wife.”
Just yesterday it seemed Josh had been captain of the under-nines football team and had scrunched his nose up at girls’ cause they smelled funny. Now he was tying the knot? Tristan ushered Josh over to the wet bar. This news deserved a toast.
He found two glasses. “If you can’t wait to exchange rings, I can’t wait to welcome her into the family.”
For some reason, an image of Ella came to mind—the sound of her soft laughter the other night, the subtle yet alluring scent of her skin. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d been more relaxed with a woman over dinner. Guess it was par for the course, given she served him that meal maybe five times a week.
Obviously Ella had enjoyed herself, too, but from day one he’d had the impression she’d be easy to please. After hearing her background, he was more convinced than ever. A loyal daughter who’d cared for her dying mother for years…his respect for her had increased tenfold.
As Tristan reached for his finest Scotch, Josh ran a finger and thumb down his tie. “Welcoming Grace into the family brings me to the second reason for this visit.”
Tristan stopped pouring. “You look worried.”
“We’re having a families’ get-together Saturday afternoon. I want you to come.”
Handing over Josh’s glass, Tristan arched a brow. “Let me guess. What you’re not saying is you want Cade to come, too.”
“Besides the fact Cade and I work together, he is our older brother.”
Before taking a sip, Tristan muttered, “Unfortunately.”
Josh exhaled. “This feud can’t go on forever.”
Tristan crossed to the floor-to-ceiling windows and a view of the Opera House shells. The surrounding silky-blue harbor glistened with postwinter sunshine. Narrowing his eyes against the glare, he sipped again, clenching his jaw as he swallowed. “You’re too young to understand.”
“I’m twenty-eight and I do understand that Mum would roll over in her grave if she knew about the rift between you two. You both need to get over it and on with your lives.”
“Because what Cade did to me wasn’t reprehen-sible, right?” Tristan’s voice was thick with sarcasm. If Josh even knew the half of it…
“If you’re talking about the board voting him sole chairman over you not long after Dad’s death, Cade offered to continue to share the seat.”
If Tristan went along with every decision Cade made. In Tristan’s book, that was called chronic egomania. No way could he agree to such terms.
Tristan turned to face Josh. “It was better for everyone for me to decline. The arrangement Dad put into place was never going to work.”
He and Cade were to jointly run the largely family-owned Australasian hotel chain. Josh was to be incorporated into the combined chairman’s role on his twenty-seventh birthday, which had, indeed, happened last year. If it were only himself and Josh running the show, no problem, they were great friends as well as brothers. But as for the eldest of the trio…
Tristan stared straight through Josh to the imagined figure of his adversary. “Cade and I have never got on,” he growled.
Too much competition, only one person willing to budge. As the older brother, Cade had always called the shots, won the praise and Tristan had been expected to smile and follow.
“Profits were down,” Josh recalled. “You both had different views on how to strengthen the figures. You wanted to borrow to refurbish the older hotels. Cade said the company couldn’t afford the debt. The board agreed.”
Tristan deadpanned, “Yet he found the money to buy me out.”
“If I remember correctly, you were the one who sug-gested the split.”
“And it was the best decision I’ve ever made.”
He’d examined the refurbishment proposal from every angle and had been certain of its viability. But, once again, Cade had played God.
Tristan knocked back his drink and smacked the heavy glass down on a corner of his desk. The echo reverberated through the room like the fall of a gavel.
He’d gotten out from under the Barkley Hotels’ weight and had started a property development company. No more kowtowing to big brother. This recent project would be his largest and most successful enterprise yet—if he got the nod on rezoning from Mayor Rufus.
Which brought to mind the other reason Tristan couldn’t care less if he ever spoke to Cade again—the fact that Cade had slept with Bindy Rufus while she and Tristan had been dating. Minutes before she’d driven off without him and died in that auto wreck, Bindy had announced to Tristan that she preferred his more mature and wealthier brother.
Talk about a kick in the gut.
Thoughtful, Josh swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “Tristan,there’s something else…I’d like you and Cade both to stand beside me when Grace and I say our vows.”
Tristan shoved a hand through his hair and tried to laugh. It was either that or cry. “You’re not making this easy for me.”
Josh’s smile was hopeful. “I want us to be a family again. All going well, one day soon you’ll both be uncles.” He pulled a card from his jacket’s breast pocket. “Cade asked me to give you his cell number.” He grinned wryly. “In case you’d lost it. He said to call anytime.”
Tristan put the card on his desk and changed the subject. They chatted for half an hour and, as soon as Josh was out the door, Tristan found and crushed Cade’s card in his fist. Taking particularly careful aim, he shot the wad into the trash basket.
He’d sort out something for the family get-together. He was happy for Josh. In fact, he envied him. Would he ever be fortunate enough to find a woman who didn’t think of marriage as nothing more than an astronomical weekly allowance with a single child to cement the deal? A woman who wasn’t a heartless gold digger as Bindy Rufus had so obvi-ously been.
Ideally, he wanted a woman who was in love with the idea of half a dozen kids and believed in the whole-some riches of “family comes first.” Wouldn’t it be great if he could simply whip up the perfect wife?
Later that day, on his way through his building to a midafternoon meeting, Tristan passed a jewelry store and an item caught his eye. The price tag was horren-dous, but the diamond and Ceylon sapphire earrings would look stunning dangling on either side of Ella’s slender neck. The dazzling blue stones matched the color of her eyes precisely.
He walked away remembering the impulse that had gripped him when they’d stood in the kitchen after their dinner out almost a week ago. He’d wanted to bring her near and taste her lips, see how they fitted with his. Crazy stuff. She was his housekeeper. Yes, he was looking forward to taking her to the black-tie affair tomorrow evening. She certainly was sexy out of that drab uniform. But she was also a simple, unassuming and honest soul.
He frowned, then slowly smiled.
