The Scandalous Heiress

“Do you know something the rest of us don’t?”

Joseph looked as if he was about to say something, then shrugged instead. “No.”

“I thought not.” Clayton nodded an apology to his aunt and Richard, then went after Mikki.

By the time he stepped outside, Mikki was halfway to the main road. He thought she had left the table to make a point, but apparently she had no intention of returning. The crazy woman. She didn’t even have her purse. Where did she plan to go?

He started on foot, then decided to take the car. She had removed her shoes to run at a steady pace. His luck with women had been consistent lately, he thought humorlessly. It seemed they couldn’t get away fast enough. Although, Mikki was the first to run out in the middle of dinner.

As he pulled the Lexus onto the road, he saw her turn the corner. Great! Old Mrs. Westbrook was getting the show of her life. He ignored the nosy woman and pulled alongside Mikki.

“Get in,” he called out the window.

“Get lost,” she snapped, and continued to walk at a brisk pace.

“Don’t make me put you in the car by force.”

“You and what army?”

“Please, Mikki. The neighbors are watching.”

She stopped and folded her arms across her chest. “I want my return ticket, and I want to go to the airport.”

“The flight isn’t until tomorrow.”

“I’ll sleep in an airport chair.” She didn’t appear to be open to negotiation.

“All right. Get in.”

She opened the door and flopped into the seat with a deep sigh. He pushed the electronic lock and proceeded down the road. After ten minutes of stony silence, she turned toward him. “This isn’t the way to the airport.”

“I know.”

“Stop this car. Now!”

He clasped his hand around her wrist to keep her from grabbing the wheel. “Just relax.”

Eyes as dark as midnight glared murderously at him. “You lied.”

“I said I would take you to the airport, and I will. Tomorrow.”

“This is kidnapping.”

“There’s a phone in the glove compartment. Call the police.”

“I can’t. You’re holding my hand.”

He released his grip. What was he doing? He had never taken a woman to his house before, let alone lie, threaten and kidnap one to get her there. Was he having his midlife crisis early? She inspired him to do things so out of character, he didn’t recognize himself.

With a moan of displeasure, she settled into the bucket seat and rested her head against the window. Her fingers clenched into tight fists. Could he blame her for being furious?

The Hawthorne brothers had behaved true to form throughout dinner. Only Mikki failed to react as expected. How could he bring up the subject of a blood test now? He would consider himself lucky if she consented to meet with Richard again before returning to New York.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

Silence.

“You didn’t eat much at dinner.”

Silence and a vicious scowl.

“Was it the food or the company?”

Her answer was a most unladylike gesture and one he probably deserved.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“You knew that would happen.” Her gaze held his in accusation.

He looked away and shrugged ruefully. “I had an idea it might.”

“But my feelings didn’t matter, did they?”

“That’s not true. I didn’t think you would care.” She recoiled. He was sinking deeper with each word. “I mean...”

“I know what you mean, Clayton.” She uttered his name with distaste. “A penniless street urchin like me would put up with anything to get her hands on a chunk of the Hawthorne fortune.”

He shook his head in adamant denial. “No! I meant that I’ve been ignoring their bad manners for so long, I just assumed you would, too.”

She arched her eyebrow skeptically. “I must be getting soft. You almost sounded sincere that time.”

Clayton gave his full attention to the road ahead. She was soft, all right, and in all the right places. The thought made him anything but soft. He wasn’t having a midlife crisis. He was reverting to the adolescent days of raging hormones, a realization that chipped at his control and made him anything but happy.

Four

Mikki blinked her eyes and cursed her own foolishness. Despite popular belief, dreams weren’t free. They exacted an emotional price far greater than she could afford to pay.

Pain seared through her. Even her stepfather, at his lying, thieving worst, had shown her more respect than Joseph or William. Not that Clayton had fared any better, but he had known what to expect.

She shivered. He glanced at her, then switched off the air-conditioning. She was surprised he had noticed her reaction. Working in the diner, she had met all kinds, but none like him. As starched as Chinese laundry, he could be the poster boy for the ultraconservative party. Was he that uptight in bed?

Mikki jerked her head up. Where had that come from?

“Where had what come from?” he asked.

When she realized she had spoken the words aloud, she felt her cheeks flush hot. She was indulging in fantasies about his sex life when she was flaming mad. Lord help her if she ever started to like the man.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “You look a bit warm.”

She pulled the fabric of her blouse away from her skin. “Perhaps you could put the air-conditioning back on.” She would rather freeze than admit the truth.

“We’re almost there.”

“Where?”

He didn’t answer, and she wouldn’t ask again. Without her suitcase or purse she was at his mercy.

As the sun was setting, he pulled the car into the entrance of Lionshead Condominiums. The sprawling complex of luxury townhouses was silhouetted against the purple and red sky.

“You live here?” she asked.

“Yes. What did you expect?”

“I thought you’d drop me off at a Motel 8.”

“A what?” His voice pitched.

“A Motel 8. The Ritz Carlton of the economically challenged.”

“Economically challenged?”

“The politically correct term for people who live near poverty level. It sounds more delicate so people don’t have to think about children going to bed hungry at night.”

He stopped the car across from one of the units. His eyes narrowed sorrowfully. “Is that what your childhood was like?”

“No. We always had a place to live and my stepfather was adept at finding ‘alternative shopping’ methods.” At least he used to be. How had he managed without his underage stepdaughter doing the dirty work for him? Would he really be foolish enough to perpetrate a fraud when a simple blood test would blow his scam? Max had never been a stupid man.

“It sounds like a poor environment to grow up in,” Clayton noted.

“Things could have been worse.”

“I guess,” he muttered.

“But you couldn’t imagine how, right?”

He removed the keys from the ignition. As he struggled for words, she felt guilty for placing the blame on him. He wasn’t responsible for the path her life had taken.

“That wasn’t fair.” She touched his arm, and he tensed. Releasing him quickly, she mumbled, “Sorry.”

He nodded sharply. “That’s all right.”

Was it her touch, or would he have the same reaction to any physical contact? Although his affection for his aunt had been evident, he hadn’t offered her a hug or kiss on the cheek when he had greeted her earlier. He was a complicated man and Mikki didn’t have enough time to figure him out.

A swirl of hot air surrounded her as she slipped from the car. The smell of the sea hung on the breeze. She licked her lips and tasted the salt. “How far is the ocean?”

He drew his eyebrows together. “Ocean? You mean the bay? You can see it from the deck upstairs.”

“No wonder you prefer to live here.”

Bitterness tinged his rich laughter. “The view had nothing to do with it.”

She recalled the scene at dinner. “I’m sure it didn’t.”

“Let me get your suitcase.”

A man of intense mystery when it came to his feelings, he shied away from any conversation that centered on him. Why was he so guarded? Why did she care? Tomorrow he would drop her off at the airport and that would be the end of their involvement.

Unless she turned out to be Richard’s daughter. All she had to do was let a doctor poke her vein, and if the results were positive her acceptance was guaranteed. If not, at least she would know. So, why had she walked out at the mere suggestion?

Because either outcome would shatter the fragile sense of peace she had only recently been able to feel. The years after her mother’s death had left her confused and afraid, constantly looking over her shoulder for her stepfather. She had fought hard to maintain her freedom. And now she felt the haunting chains of her past reaching out to imprison her again.

“This way, Mikki.” Clayton pointed toward the garage which opened with a tap to the remote in his hand. She followed him inside. “I’ll put the car in later.”

The spacious town house used the waterfront view to full advantage. French doors in the living room led to a deck overlooking the bay. The water had taken on a deep shade of sea green as the last of the sun disappeared. The cathedral ceilings with inlaid skylights made her feel as if she could reach up and touch the full moon overhead.

His home seemed in contrast to his personality. The plush sectional sofa, in beige Haitian cotton, was accented beautifully with throws and pillows in a southwestern motif. The framed pictures and handcrafted collectibles displayed throughout the room were a departure from the stuffy image he fostered.

Clayton put her suitcase inside the door of a guest room. “I’ll make some coffee. You can change if you’d like.”

“Thanks.”

Once he left, she sprawled across the queen-size bed and traced the Navajo pattern of the quilt with her fingertip. Sleeping alone in this big bed seemed such a waste. Her thoughts went to her reluctant host, and her pulse accelerated. At this rate her vivid imagination would land her in serious trouble.

It must be the stress, she decided as she changed into a short-sleeved sweatshirt and a pair of leggings. Clayton had not made one comment or gesture that led her to believe he might be interested. To the contrary, he kept a distinct distance between them. Even though he had brought her here, she sensed his discomfort with the arrangement.

Mikki was about to search out Clayton when an old photograph captured her attention. She lifted the antique silver frame from the dresser for closer inspection. A small child sitting atop a pony waved for the photographer. A boy stuck his tongue out and held two fingers above the little girl’s head. Though they looked nothing alike, they behaved like siblings. She brushed her thumb over the glass. Why did the picture seem familiar?

“That’s Meg.” Clayton’s voice gave her a start. She turned to find him watching her with an odd expression. “My aunt uses this room when she visits. It’s one of her last pictures of you.”

“Me?”

He frowned. “Meg. One of the last pictures of Meg, taken on her third birthday. She got that pony from Richard.”

“And who’s the comedian with his tongue hanging out, holding rabbit ears over her head?”

“Take a guess.”

She smiled. “I don’t believe you ever had a sense of humor.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.