The Reluctant Heiress

“Somehow this surprises me. I imagined you in a different type of home,” she said, realizing Garrett had far more wealth than she had thought.

“Maybe I better not ask what kind.”

“Something less formal, maybe more Western. Although this mansion has enough rooms to have all types of decor.”

“I’ll show you my shop and then we’ll find the perfect spot for your painting.”

He led her down the wide, elegant hall with potted palms and oils in ornate frames hanging on the walls. They entered another wing of the mansion and finally turned into a large paneled room that smelled of sawdust. The terrazzo floor was rust-colored with dark brown stones. Beautiful pieces of furniture in various stages were scattered throughout the room. The framework for an ornate credenza stood on a worktable, above which tools hung. One wall held handcrafted cabinets containing more tools.

She walked around the room, inhaling the sawdust smell, taking in the furniture in progress, lumber, power saws, a stack of sawhorses. “This is what you love, isn’t it?”

He stood watching her and nodded. “You’re the first woman who has ever been down here.”

“I’m honored,” she said.

“Sophia,” he said and stopped. He stared at her intently.

“Yes?”

“I just wondered what you think about all this. Although I suppose I need to show you a finished product before I ask you that,” he replied.

She had the feeling that he had been about to say something else, and she wondered what it was. The slight frown on his face made her curiosity deepen but she was certain if she asked, she would not get the answer.

She walked to a table to run her finger along the smooth finish. “This is beautiful, Garrett.”

“That still needs a lot of work. It’s intended to be a reproduction of a French walnut refectory table. I also enjoy history.”

“So do you do this when you can’t sleep?” she asked.

“Do you paint when you can’t sleep?” he said, by way of answering.

She smiled at him.

“C’mon. I’ll show you some finished pieces.”

As they made their way out into the hall, she still felt as if he towered over her—a unique sensation and one she enjoyed.

They paused by an elegant reproduction of a 19th-century French sofa with embroidered rosebuds in beige damask upholstery. “Here’s a finished piece,” he said.

She had expected his work to be nice, but this was beyond nice. “Garrett, this looks like a well-preserved antique. It looks like the real thing.” She ran her fingers over the smooth wood. “This is truly beautiful,” she said, impressed. “You could make another fortune from your craft.”

He smiled. “That’s the best compliment I’ve ever received,” he said. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “You do look stunning, Sophia. Do you mind?” he said while he reached up and pulled a pin out of her hair. Locks spilled on her shoulders as she gazed up at him.

He stood close, removing pins, causing a gentle tingling sensation on her scalp. She looked at his mouth and her heart drummed. She wanted him to kiss her right now and was tempted to pull him to her.

Instead, she kept quiet while Garrett finished and her hair cascaded across her shoulders. She moved her head slightly, shaking out her hair and letting it swirl across her shoulders. She still watched him while he gazed into her eyes. His attention shifted to her mouth.

“Garrett, show me more of your work,” she said, her voice breathless. She wanted his kisses, yet she felt she should resist and have some control. Garrett had come into her life like a whirlwind and she needed to show some resistance before he totally uprooted her career and schedules. Deep down, she had an instinctive feeling that Garrett was more than just an appealing man who excited her.

“Better yet, come with me and I’ll show you where I want to hang your painting. There are two possible rooms—one is the billiard room, the other is a large living area. I entertain there and it’s not as formal as some of the other rooms.”

She followed him down the wide hall. “You really need a map for this mansion.”

He smiled. “Your place wasn’t small either.”

“I’m so accustomed to it, I don’t give a thought to the size.”

“Nor do I.” He motioned toward open double doors. She entered a large room that had two glass walls. One end of the room bowed out in a sweeping glass curve, giving the room light and a sensation of being outdoors. The other end featured a massive brick fireplace. Leather furniture and dark fruitwood lent a masculine touch.

“This is a livable room. Very comfortable,” he said. “I’m in here a lot.” He led her across the room and she saw a familiar painting she had done a year earlier.

“I like it there,” she said, looking at her painting on his wall with others in a grouping. “A prominent spot in a room you like and live in. Now you can think of me when you see it,” she added lightly, teasing him.

“I’ll always think of you when I see it,” he said, his solemn tone giving a deeper meaning to his words.

“Sure you will,” she said, laughing. “Is this the room where you’d like to hang the other painting?”

“Yes, possibly. Where do you think it should go?”

Aware of his attention on her, she strolled around the room, selecting and then rejecting spots until she stopped. “I think this is a good place.”

“It is. One other possibility you should consider is over the hearth. It’s a sizable painting. I think it fits this room.”

“That would be the most prominent spot in the room,” she said, surprised and pleased.

“I think it would look good there.” He shed his coat. “Let me hold it up and see what you think.”

She watched as he picked up the painting and held it in place.

She smiled at him. “It looks great there. Are you sure?”

He grinned. “I’ll get tools and hang it.”

“What can I do?” she asked.

“Let’s have a drink and you can supervise the hanging.”

“I can get the drinks,” she said, moving to the bar in the corner of the room. “What would you like?”

“I think I’ll have beer.”

“And I’ll have red wine,” she stated. While she got a wineglass and opened a bottle, he disappeared. By the time he returned, she was on a leather couch in front of the fireplace with the drinks on a table. He placed an armload of tools on a chair and pulled off his tie. He twisted free the top buttons of his shirt—something so ordinary and simple yet it filled her with heat and she longed to get up and unbutton the rest for him. He picked up his beer, raising the bottle high.

“Here’s to improving the looks of my house by adding a Sophia Rivers painting.”

“I’ll drink to that,” she said, standing and picking up her drink to touch his cold bottle. Again, when she looked into his eyes, her heart skipped a beat. Each time they almost kissed, her longing intensified. How soon would they be in each other’s arms?

Sipping her red wine, she stepped back. His gaze remained locked on hers. Watching her, he sipped his beer and then turned away, breaking the spell.

He picked up the painting. “I’ll hold this and you tell me when I have it in exactly the right spot.” He held the painting high, and then set it down. “Just a minute. I can put myself back together later,” he said as he took off his gold cuff links and folded back his immaculate cuffs. “Now, let’s try this again.”

Slightly disheveled, he looked sexy, appealing. She tried to focus on the painting, but was having a difficult time keeping her attention off the man.

“To the right and slightly higher,” she said. After several adjustments, she nodded. “That’s perfect.”

He leaned back to look while he held the picture. Setting it down, he picked up chalk to mark a place on the bricks before pulling the tape measure out.

She sipped her wine while he worked. In an amazingly short time he had her painting hanging in place and he stepped away.

“Let’s look at it.”

He took her arm and they walked across the large room to study the result of his work. She was aware of the warmth of him beside her. He looked at his watch. “Shall we go eat now, or should I just throw some steaks on the grill?”

“If we eat here, it’s fine with me.”

He leaned down to look directly into her eyes. “Are you certain you don’t mind my cooking?”

“Now I’m curious,” she said. “I’ll view it as an adventure.”

“Steaks at home it is.” He draped his arm across her shoulders. “It’s a nice evening. We’ll eat on the terrace.”

They carried their drinks outside, and Sophia was again surprised by the house.

“This isn’t a terrace, Garrett—it’s another kitchen, plus a terrace, plus a living area, plus a pool.”

“With Houston’s weather, it works well through the fall and winter,” he replied, crossing to a stainless-steel gas grill built into a stone wall. In minutes he had the grill fired up and he sat with her on comfortable chairs in the outdoor living room.

“So where are you going, Sophia? What do you want out of life?”

“To pursue painting. To do charity work. I’d like to help with literacy. Also, try to do something to aid in getting more opportunities in school for children to take art and learn art appreciation. I want to open a gallery in New Mexico.”

“Marriage and family?”

She shrugged. “I don’t think about that. I’m accustomed to being on my own. I don’t ever want to be in the situation my mother was in—in love with my dad who never returned that love fully.”

“Your dad—you knew him?”

“What I told you last night wasn’t completely accurate. He was around off and on all my life,” she said, feeling a stab of pain and anger that had never left her. “My dad wouldn’t marry my mother. He practically ignored me except for financial support.”

“You said he was married?” Garrett said.

“Not by the time I was a teenager, but he didn’t want to get tied down again. Whenever he came to visit, it tore her up each time he left. She would cry for several days. He was the only man she ever loved,” Sophia stated bitterly. “He had a family—boys. He would go home to them. I couldn’t do anything to help her or stop her tears. When I was little, we both cried. I cried for her and she cried over him.”

“That’s tough,” Garrett said. “He ignored you?”

“In his way he provided for me. But looking back, I don’t think he knew how to deal with a little girl. He brought me all kinds of presents. I can remember reaching an age where I smashed some of them to bits. Mom just started giving them to charities. I didn’t want anything from him.”

“How old were you then?”

“Probably about eight or nine. He was polite to me and Mom saw to it that I was polite to him, but we weren’t together a whole lot. He never talked to me other than hello and goodbye. I rarely heard him say my name. When I was little I wondered whether he knew it. Often, I would be sent to my grandmother’s, which I loved, or out with my nanny when he was coming. Worked fine for me. I didn’t want to see him.”

“Yet your mother always loved him.”

“She did. And I don’t ever want to fall into that trap. The best way to avoid it is to keep relationships from becoming too deep.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t base everything on the actions of your father.”

“That’s the legacy he left me—a deep fear of any relationship that isn’t totally committed.”

“Sorry, Sophia,” Garrett said with a somber note.

“How’d we get on this?” she asked, wanting to avoid thinking and talking about her blood father. She wanted him out of her life and thoughts as much as humanly possible.

“I’m interested in your life and finding out about you. Did he ever try to make it up to you?”

She thought of the inheritance Argus Delaney had left her. “He always showered Mom with money. Money was his solution for everything. He paid her medical bills, but by the time the end of her life came, we had enough money to manage on our own. No matter what happened, she always loved him. And I’ve always hated him,” she said.

“At least he was good to her,” Garrett said gently. “And generous.”

“I suppose I should be grateful, but I can’t be. He left money when he died—money I don’t want one penny of,” she said.

“He’s gone. He’ll never know whether you take his money or refuse it. Why not take it and enjoy it? It should be yours.”

She shook her head, feeling the familiar current of fury that she had lived with as long as she could remember.

“I don’t want anything to do with him.”

“You could do a lot with your inheritance.”

“I’ll never touch it,” she said, trying to shift her focus off the past and onto Garrett, thinking he would be fascinating to paint. His rugged features gave him a distinctive individualism and his unique gray eyes were unforgettable. Desire stirred and once again, she struggled to pay attention to their conversation.

He was studying her intently. “Sophia—” He paused, his eyes holding secrets. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“What? What were you going to say?”

He looked away. “I’ll check on the steaks.” She watched him stride to the cooker and she wondered for the second time this evening what it was he’d been about to say to her. Probably more advice about taking her inheritance, which she’d already heard enough of from Edgar.

“The steaks are ready.”

She stood, going with him to help get tossed salads, potatoes and water on the table. Soon they sat on the terrace to eat thick, juicy steaks.

“It’s a wonder you ever travel for pleasure. It’s gorgeous here and you have every convenience.”

“I like it here, but I like my other places, too.”

“I guess I can understand since I enjoy Santa Fe and Taos and even the cabin in the mountains as much as living in Houston.” She took a bite of her steak. “You’re a very good cook. The steak is delicious,” she said, surprised because he’d seemed to pay little attention to his cooking.

“I’m glad you think so.”

“I should have watched you more closely. I invariably burn them.”

“You can watch me as closely as you want,” he replied with a twinkle.

“I opened the door for that one,” she said, smiling at him. “So how did you get into property management?” she asked, picking up her water glass to take a sip. A faint breeze caught his hair, blowing it gently. His hair was thick, and she thought about how it felt to run her fingers through it.

“My dad had the business,” he was saying. “He was into property management and finance. I was raised to follow in his footsteps and groomed to take over his businesses.”

“Businesses? There are others?”

“Yes, but I’m not directly involved in most of them. Hardly involved at all. They’re investments.”

“And that leaves you free to play around,” she said. “So what do you actually do?” she asked, flirting with him while trying to satisfy her curiosity about him and his life.

He smiled at her. “More than play around, although I hope to do that tonight. Dinner—get to know you—kiss you. That’s what I want to do in the next few hours,” he said, his voice deepening and making her tingle.

“I don’t really know you. Do you work, Garrett, or does the playboy lifestyle fit you?”

“I work, but not tonight, so we can get away from that subject. You aren’t eating, and I’ve lost my appetite for this steak. Let’s sit where it’s more comfortable to talk. We can take our drinks with us.”

She was leaving a half-eaten steak, yet she couldn’t resist his suggestion. Her interest in food had disappeared with Garrett’s flirting. He took her hand and she stood, going with him, her insides tingling the moment he touched her.

Garrett sat close on the couch. Her perfume was an exotic fragrance and he liked the faint scent. Her long hair was silky in his fingers as he twisted and toyed with the strands. She was stunning and he couldn’t get enough of her. And yet, he was racked with guilt.

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