by Sharon Sala
Trace groaned softly, grateful for an excuse to get up from his chair. They’d been at the table for nearly three hours. It had been too long and cloistered. He was used to a more congenial atmosphere during meals and readily agreed to the move as he spoke. “I’ll get the glasses, J. J. You show Honor just how beautiful a Colorado night can be. I’ll be along shortly and continue her education…on Colorado, that is.”
His teasing brought a blush, and he watched in satisfaction as Honor glared at his innuendo.
Erin looked at Trace, and then back at this interloper, this younger version of her life-long competition. Anger billowed. This wasn’t fair. She’d spent her entire life trying to get her father to love her as much as he’d loved her mother, but it had never happened. He’d doted on his sons and his beloved “Meggie.” Erin had gotten what was left over. It had never been enough. Now her nemesis was back, in a younger, more vibrant form. It was starting all over again. And it was obvious that she also had the attention of a man who had never given Erin the time of day.
* * *
When Trace had begun working at Malone Industries, Erin had sidled into his life, both in a business and personal fashion. She was several years older than he, but had never felt threatened by society’s judgment of such relationships. Actually, Erin felt safer with younger men, more in control.
Trace had carefully listened to her business advice, aware that the boss’s daughter was a force to be reckoned with, and wisely not allowed her anywhere near his personal life. It hadn’t taken Erin long to get the message. She’d held a grudge ever since. She’d used Trace Logan as a weak excuse to herself as to why she’d never married. In moments of honesty she admitted only to herself it was because she was too selfish to share her time with anyone. She didn’t want to lose her figure by bearing children, and she didn’t want to watch some man grow old before her eyes, to know that she was bound to him by the bonds of her religion, until death did them part. Just the thought made her physically sick.
The group soon broke up into two clusters, leaving Honor on her own. J. J. and Hastings began to discuss business. Father Andrew cornered his sister. It was obvious to Honor that she was the subject of their conversation. The furtive glances they kept casting her way were anything but casual.
Honor sighed, rolled her eyes heavenward, and then forgot her weary disgust. The stars seemed to be falling in on her as she gazed up into the dark night sky. She knew it was an illusion. Maybe it was because they were at a higher elevation. But regardless of the fact, the view was breathtaking.
Trace’s voice startled her as he walked up behind her and cupped his body against the back of her own, molding himself to the softness of her curves.
Honor forgot what she’d been doing. All she could think of was how strong and unyielding he felt against her and how safe she felt with him behind her.
“So what do you think, lady? Are you still mad at me, or are you glad you came? Your reception has been less than I’d hoped for, but not unexpected. Erin, like her father, enjoys being in control.”
Honor heard the concern in his voice and turned to face him, feeling her breasts brush against the unyielding muscles of his chest as he refused to relinquish his space.
As usual her honesty astounded him. She didn’t mince words about any of them, yet she didn’t criticize or condemn. She merely observed with startling clarity. “I feel as if I’m in a play and everyone is playing a part. None of this has been familiar or comforting. Not even particularly happy. I don’t think anyone but J. J. is truly glad I’m here. I’ve disturbed a very settled, very unused portion of the Malone family, namely their emotions. But,” she continued, “on the other hand, I didn’t want to come, so I suppose this is no more than I could have expected. I didn’t want to know them any more than they wanted to know me. Hell of a mess, isn’t it?”
The poignancy of her voice pulled at his heart.
“I don’t know whether to be sorry for what my mother did to them by taking me away, or thank my lucky stars that I didn’t have to grow up here.”
“I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through,” Trace said softly, resisting the urge to pull Honor into his arms. He knew she’d object. And he didn’t relish everyone watching him make a fool of himself. When it came to this woman, he had little to no control over his emotions. “But I can imagine how my part in this crisis has seemed to you. Honor, as God is my witness, I never meant to deceive you or hurt you. You’ve got to believe me!”
His vehemence startled her. She whispered back in frustration, “Don’t ask for miracles. This is almost more than I can tolerate for one evening and still remain sane. What I can say is, I do know that this would have probably happened, with or without your intervention.” And then her eyes grew stormy as she continued. “But you should have been honest with me from the very beginning, and you know it!”
The accusation hung between them, achingly obvious in its honesty.
“If I had, think of what we’d have missed, lady.”
Honor blushed, thankful of the patio’s shadows. She knew what Trace was referring to and was unable to argue with the truth of the statement. She shuddered wearily.
“I’ve had just about all of a good time I can take for one night. I need out of here. Will you help me make a graceful exit?”
He nodded and traced the curve of her cheek with his thumb. Her question and the quiver in her voice nearly broke his heart.
“Your answer may not be what my heart wants to hear, but I hear you. Just leave everything to me.”
He took her by the arm with a firm yet gentle grip, and started back indoors, pausing to speak quietly to J. J.
“Honor wants to call home and check on her business. I’m going to show her to the den and then make my own exit. Thanks for the dinner. As usual, Trudy outdid herself. I’ve a lot of work to catch up on at the office, so I’ll check in with you by phone tomorrow.”
Hastings looked at Honor, gauging with interest the interplay between her and Trace. He couldn’t resist the belittling comment that slipped through his slick smile.
“I didn’t realize you had such a major role to play in your little business, Honor. Your grandfather has been informing me of your background since your abduction. I suppose your education has been varied to say the least. Growing up in a café was probably never boring.”
Trace sucked in his breath at the rudeness. Fury dumbfounded him. But Honor’s own words felled the lawyer with clean precision.
“You shouldn’t be so…hasty.” She purposefully lingered on the obviously hated terminology. “Don’t assume anything about someone you just met, Mr. Lawrence. My little café is a twenty-four-hour, nonstop business. I have staff for three full shifts at a restaurant that seats nearly two hundred people. And, I’ve done the books for the business since my sophomore year at college. I graduated four years ago and have worked full-time with my mother and enjoyed it immensely. Naturally I’m concerned about something that we spent a lifetime building. Now if you will excuse me?”
His eyes narrowed and he masked his anger with an overdramatic display as he threw up his hands in mock surrender.
Honor had never wanted to slap someone’s face so badly in her entire life.
“I’m going to say good night. I’m certain that I’ll see you again before I leave. J. J., thank you for everything. See you in the morning.”
She made up for her rather cool dismissal of the group by leaning forward and giving her grandfather a quick kiss on the corner of his chin.
And then they were gone.
Erin fumed. Tonight she’d lost more ground with her father than she had in the last twenty years. Father Andrew gathered his rather vague wits about him, let himself fall back into his otherworldly demeanor, and quickly uttered his own farewells. That left J. J., his daughter, and his lawyer alone on the terrace.
J. J. watched Erin’s barely masked fury. His daughter had that look on her face again. Ever since she was a sm
all child she’d craved, even demanded, all of his attention. No matter how fiercely he’d tried to show her his love, she was never satisfied. She imagined slights, fostered false accusations within her own mind, until he and Meggie had been helpless to change her behavior. They’d simply learned to accept it.
But now with the arrival of his long-lost granddaughter, he began to worry all over again. Surely Erin wouldn’t do anything to harm the girl. After all, she was her own flesh and blood. Her brother Johnny’s only child. Surely Erin had that much family spirit about her.
He turned to Hastings and spoke, pushing his fears back into the recesses of his mind where they belonged. “First thing tomorrow, Hastings, I want to begin a full audit of the company holdings. I’m going to be making some changes in my will and need an updated version for the codicil. You know the routine. Start the ball rolling.”
He grimaced and shifted his weight onto his good leg as he tapped the cane against the flagged terrace floor. “I think it’s time I call it a night. Erin, my dear, I’ll leave you two alone. Don’t hurry if you’re inclined to enjoy some time out here together. This is a night for romance and I’m way past everything but memories.” He leaned over, patted her gently on the back, and gave her his usual brusque good-bye kiss.
Hastings felt the bile from his stomach boiling up into his throat. My God! Not an audit! And not now! But he could tell by the look on J. J.’s face that his mind was made up. He swallowed harshly, mentally shelving his panic. He’d deal with this later.
Erin wanted to throw something. But there was nothing at hand. As a result, Hastings received the brunt of her anger. He gathered her in his arms, perfectly willing to fulfill J. J.’s offer of romancing the boss’s daughter when she shrieked wildly into his ear. “He’s going to change his will,” she cried, shoving herself out of Hastings’s embrace. “She’ll get everything, and all my years as the devoted daughter will be for nothing. She is the spitting image of Mother. That’s all it will take. That’s why she came. She’s after his money. I know it! I don’t know how, but we’ve got to stop this. And you’re going to help me.”
Hastings frowned, letting Erin ramble as she vented her anger. The best thing he could do was agree with whatever she said. But he had no intention of following J. J. Malone’s orders. He had some problems of his own to solve. J. J.’s decisive move to change his will was going to send him straight to hell.
He’d spent the better part of his youth trying, with no success, to persuade the heir of the Malone fortune to marry him. If the fortune was going to be divided, he had to rethink his options. He knew there was no chance of Honor O’Brien considering him as a suitor. It was obvious that Trace Logan had beat him to that. But, he thought, I’m not finished yet. And he had some tracks to cover that only he knew existed. There would be no audit. Not yet!
He quietly escorted Erin to his car, letting the fury of her twisted imagination fall on deaf ears. He’d make his excuses tonight when he got to her apartment. He was in no mood to fake romance with Erin now. There was much to be done before business tomorrow.
* * *
Honor made her call to Charlie’s, unaware of Trace’s extreme distraction. He was bemused by her allure; entranced because it was so natural. Her face lit up as she obviously recognized whomever had answered the phone. Her sharp, decisive answers impressed him as she assumed the role of owner and quickly solved several problems regarding the business. She leaned her head back and laughed, unaware of the seductive sound of her voice. She kicked off her shoes, wiggling her toes in obvious relief as she continued her call, oblivious to Trace’s fascination.
His body tightened. It was going to be difficult to stand and not give away what he was feeling. Honor laughed, and he wished it was at something he’d said. Her shoes fell off, and he wanted to personally remove the rest of her clothing. How in heaven’s name was he going to be able to keep his hands off this woman and keep his sanity intact? She was infuriating, independent and intoxicating. And he was in trouble.
Honor hung up the phone and turned to face him with a lingering smile on her face. If he didn’t have to move, he might get away with it. But something—probably hormones—pulled him up and out of the chair.
“Thank you, Trace,” she said quietly. “It felt good to touch base.”
Trace nodded and swallowed, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t get him into further trouble. Nothing came to mind.
Honor frowned. The least he could have said was, “You’re welcome.”
“What’s the matter with you?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Trace replied, wondering just how much of what he was feeling showed. Obviously not as much as he’d feared.
She shrugged. “You want to walk me to my room?”
The question surprised them both.
“If I can,” he mumbled, then groaned as Honor completely captured his wandering thoughts into a single, focusing ache when she bent over to retrieve her shoes. Her legs went all the way to…
Trace shuddered, wiped a shaky hand across his face, and followed Honor out into the hall and up the long, carpeted stairway.
“I’ll sleep better now that I’ve called home,” Honor said as they started toward her room. “The initial meeting is over. I can face whatever comes. Although I doubt if I’ll prolong their misery or mine. I’ve met them. I’ll visit a few days, but I’m going home as soon as I can book a flight.”
She turned and leaned against her bedroom door. “I don’t belong here. At one point I might have, but no longer. One of my pet peeves used to be people who were always announcing that they must find themselves. I used to think that was an excuse for not wanting to get about the business of living. Now I’m not so sure. I don’t know who I am, either.”
Her voice tugged at Trace’s heart. She was trying to sound so confident and secure about accepting this nightmare she’d been thrust into when she was actually struggling to stay ahead of the next surprise.
“You’re the most together woman I know, Honor O’Brien. If you need any reminding about how you are, you just give me a call. I’ll be more than happy to remind you.”
His voice was deep and ragged as he struggled with his conscience and his libido. One kept telling him he’d already done enough to upset this woman, and the other kept telling him he hadn’t even started.
“No,” she argued. “I don’t know who I am. Don’t you understand, Trace? The real Honor O’Brien died nearly twenty-six years ago. And the real Mary Margaret Malone as good as died when she was eight months old. I’m no one. I’m just a patchwork of one small woman’s mistake. She did her best to put me back together again, but I don’t know if it was enough.”
She sighed and leaned her head against his chest. “I can’t think about any of this any more tonight. If I do, my brain is going to self-destruct. Thanks for the rescue,” her dimple flashed, “and thanks for walking me home.”
Trace slid his arms around her and pulled her up against his aching body until she relaxed and allowed herself the luxury of the contact. Her head came down and pillowed against the strength of his shoulder. They stood in the shadowed hallway as their heartbeats synchronized into one steady, pulsing rhythm. The evening’s tension slid away as Honor relaxed in his arms. He rocked her against him and wished this night didn’t have to end.
This is why God made women. Because it feels so damn good to hold them.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Trace whispered into the tumble of her curls beneath his chin. “If you haven’t made plans with J. J., let me show you some of Colorado Springs. You gave me the cook’s tour of Odessa, remember?”
“I remember more than you probably want me to,” Honor said, looking up at the solemn expression on his face. “And I would love to see the sights, especially the caves.”
Trace felt his heart sink as he grinned wryly. “Oh, hell, Honor. Caves are dark and damp and they have bats. You’re a woman. Women are supposed to be afraid of stuff like that.”
Honor knew instantly that she’d hit a nerve. “If you’re uncomfortable doing that, we can do something else,” she said, knowing full well he was going to deny it.
“You’re a menace, you know that?” he growled. “I’ll go into the damn cave, but I don’t have to like it. Maybe you’ll hold my hand if I get scared. What do you think?”
“I think that’s the sorriest line I ever heard used just for the excuse to grope a woman, Trace Logan. I thought you’d be able to come up with something a little more original.”
Her voice had lightened and the heavy sadness seemed to have disappeared from those stormy gray eyes. Trace would walk through a cave full of snakes just to hear her laugh again.
“I’m going to have to tell you good night, lady, before you discover any more of my unmanly weaknesses. I’m already brainless where you’re concerned.”
He leaned down, cupped her face in his hands, and breathed his good night kiss against her lips.
Honor felt her stomach muscles pull until she imagined a distinct link between her belly button and her little toe. Every instinct she had told her to reach behind her back, turn the doorknob, and pull them both into the anonymous darkness of her bedroom. But she retrieved her last rational thought just before it went over the precipice in her mind and ended their good-bye with a prediction.
“Tomorrow will be a better day. It has to. Today couldn’t have been worse if we’d planned it.”
Trace nodded, reluctantly released his hold on Honor, and began to walk away. When he got to the top of the stairs he turned. Honor was watching him from her doorway. He waved and smiled.
Putting his foot on that first stair step was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. Every instinct in his body kept telling him to turn around and go back inside with that woman, close the door, and shut out the world. But he knew he couldn’t. Because inevitably tomorrow would come and he was in no mood for regrets.
Chapter 6
Trace frowned as the phone rang again, threw his pencil down in disgust, and knew as he answered it that it would be a miracle if he finished this contract bid by the deadline. He quickly ended the conversation, knowing that he was going to have to work all day and all night just to get the bid in the mail on time.