She nodded, her quick mind capable of leaping to his inevitable conclusion.
“So, if I turned up dead, everyone would assume I was killed by the psycho who was sending me pictures,” she said. “The man I am publicly chasing.”
He lowered his hand, grabbing her fingers in a tight grip. “It would be a cunning plan.”
“Cunning?”
He gave her fingers a squeeze. “You know what I mean.”
She started to nod, only to stiffen as if she was struck by a sudden thought.
“What about the person who cut me in Kansas City?” she demanded, her hand lifting to touch her upper arm. “I would have known if it was Lawrence.”
He arched a brow. “Are you positive?”
“I . . .” She released a harsh breath. “No, I can’t be sure.”
“There’s also your cousins,” Griff added, his voice tight with anger at the reminder she’d been injured. “Or he could have hired someone in the Kansas City area to drive to the hotel and wait for you. And it would have been easy to send the flowers. Except he didn’t realize that you no longer went by Carrie.”
“That would explain Lawrence’s surprise at seeing me.” Her expression hardened as she accepted there was a possibility that her only remaining family wanted her dead. “If he’s monitoring me, he would think I was flying to Baltimore.”
“Yes.”
They both fell silent as they considered the thought of Lawrence coldly plotting the murder of his niece, then Carmen pulled away from him to wander toward the window.
“God. He would have to be sick,” she breathed.
He moved to stand behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders. He desperately wanted to comfort her.
“Greed can be a form of sickness,” he said. “I’ve met people who would lie, cheat, and sell their own mother for money.”
She shuddered beneath his hands. “How long will it take to get the information you need?”
“It could take hours,” he said, then he grimaced. If Lawrence was truly clever, he probably had several layers of bullshit that Griff would have to dig through to get to the pertinent details of his business dealings. “Even days.”
“What should we do until then?”
Heat scorched through his veins, hardening his body with a painful need.
“I have a few ideas,” he assured her, lowering his head to nuzzle the side of her neck.
She stiffened before she released a soft sigh and melted against his chest. He parted his lips, allowing his tongue to touch her soft skin.
A hint of citrus and warm woman exploded in his mouth. Delicious. His hands skimmed down her arms before he grabbed her hips and tugged her even closer.
Although she was inches shorter than him, she fit against him perfectly.
His lips moved to the hollow just beneath her ear, his arousal pressed against her lower back. He could stand there all day. Just holding her in his arms.
She angled her head, allowing him greater access. His arms tightened, his lips skimming to the base of her neck. Okay, holding her was fantastic, but there was a bed just through the nearby door....
A low purr interrupted the silence, and Griff swore beneath his breath as Carmen instantly pulled out of his embrace.
“What’s that?” she demanded, turning to glance around the room.
“The worst timing in the history of the world,” he muttered as he crossed the floor to snatch up the hotel phone.
He didn’t know why the front desk would be contacting them, but he assumed it had to be important. A minute later he’d replaced the phone and turned to meet Carmen’s curious gaze.
“Well?” she demanded.
“It seems we have a guest waiting for us downstairs,” he told her.
She frowned. “Who?”
“Your cousin. Baylor Jacobs.”
Chapter Thirteen
Carmen concentrated on their surroundings as they stepped off the elevator.
The hotel truly was lovely. Built in the English Renaissance style, it had long, arched arcades and towering ceilings with hand-painted plaster reliefs. She could easily imagine long-ago travelers in elegant clothes as they moved across the marble floor.
At her side, Griff placed a hand on her lower back as they walked down the second-floor gallery. The heat of his skin seared through the fabric of her skirt, offering a welcome reminder that for the first time in a very long time, she wasn’t alone.
The fuzzy sensation was destroyed the second she caught sight of the man seated at a table near the arched opening that overlooked the lobby below.
Baylor Jacobs. Her cousin.
He’d changed. It’d been fourteen years since she’d last seen him, after all, and the pudgy teenager with an overbite and a constant scowl had thinned down, while the protruding teeth had been modified until they were barely noticeable. The wonders of the modern orthodontist.
His dark brown hair was sternly slicked back and he wore an expensive suit that was designed to convey the impression of success. His eyes, however, remained the same.
They were a pale hazel, with a cold, flat stare that had always reminded Carmen of a snake.
That hadn’t changed.
An unreasonable anger speared through her as she watched him rise to his feet at her approach, his lips pressed into a flat line.
She was a part of his family that had been estranged for years. Surely, most normal people would at least pretend to be pleased at the opportunity to be reunited with her?
Instead, his expression was hard with blatant suspicion.
He wasn’t looking at her as if she was his long-lost cousin. He was looking at her as if she was the enemy.
A strange, corrosive disappointment joined her anger in a toxic brew that bubbled in the pit of her stomach.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Griff sharply turning his head to study her tense profile. As if he could sense her emotional turmoil. No surprise. From the beginning he seemed to possess an uncanny ability to read her moods.
In contrast, Baylor Jacobs was holding out his hand, completely impervious to her chilly expression.
“Carrie,” he said, his lips stretching even farther.
Definitely snakelike.
“Carmen,” she corrected, ignoring his hand.
“Carmen, of course.” He lowered his hand, turning to study her companion. “And you must be Griffin Archer.”
“I am.”
“Thanks for agreeing to meet with me.” Baylor waved his hands toward the small table near the scrolled iron banister. Griff moved to pull out her chair, giving her shoulder a light squeeze as she sat down before he took his seat beside her. Baylor settled across from them, nodding toward the glossy menu. “Drink?”
Carmen shook her head. “No, thank you.”
Baylor cleared his throat. “You haven’t changed. You still look just like your mother,” he said.
Carmen’s chin angled upward. She had a sudden memory of Baylor stealing her doll and tossing it down the well. One of several times he’d made her cry.
The truth was, she’d never liked her cousin. Either one of them.
“Actually, I’ve changed a lot. Especially over the past couple of years,” she said, her words a warning. “I’m not the little girl you remember.”
He visibly struggled to make his expression friendly. She wondered how much an effort it was.
“Yes, congratulations on your book,” he said. “I hear that it’s been quite a success.”
“You haven’t read it?”
“Not yet,” he admitted. “But I’ve seen it in airports.”
Carmen forced herself to take a deep breath. The day had been stressful, on top of a week that had been epically stressful. She was losing focus of why they were in Louisville.
This wasn’t a trip down memory lane. She was here to discover if anyone in her family was responsible for sending her those horrid pictures.
“Nice to know the book is on the
shelves,” she said, studying her cousin’s pale face. “If you’ve been in airports, that must mean you travel?”
He blinked, as if caught off guard by her question. “I’m expected to check on our stores on a regular basis. I’m usually on the road or in the air several days a month.”
Which meant no one would have noticed if he’d taken a quick trip to Kansas City.
“After a year of being in one hotel after another, I’ll be glad to settle at home,” she said.
“And where is that?”
It was her turn to blink. “What?”
“Where is your home?”
“I have my grandparents’ farm.”
“And that’s it?”
She arched a brow. She already knew where this was going. The question was whether she wanted to try to steer the conversation back to Baylor’s recent travels. Then she realized it was even more important to learn why he was clearly suspicious of her. And just how desperate he might be to get rid of her.
Either to protect himself, or someone close to him.
“Why are you asking?” she demanded.
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. At the same time his bland features lost their battle to look anything but grim.
She sensed the gloves were about to come off.
“I could try to pretend I’m here out of cousinly affection, but we both know it would be a lie,” he said, proving her suspicion right. “And I’m not very subtle. My older brother was gifted with all the charm in the family.”
She deliberately glanced over his shoulder. From below, the sound of children’s laughter echoed through the air.
“Where is Matthew?”
“I assume my brother is still in bed. He usually spends the holiday season stumbling from one drunken gala to another.” A genuine aversion flared through the hazel eyes. “He’s very good at parties, but not so good about getting to work on time.”
So. If Baylor was covering for someone, it wasn’t his older brother.
She was pretty sure he’d throw Matthew under the bus just for the fun of it.
“So you were elected to come and speak with me?” she asked.
He pretended to look confused. “Elected?”
“Uncle Lawrence called you, didn’t he?”
Baylor sat back, straightening the cuffs of his crisp white shirt. Carmen recognized the ploy. He needed time to think of his answer.
“He came to the office, and I could tell that he had something on his mind,” he at last said.
“Me?”
“Your unexpected arrival,” he clarified.
Her lips twisted. She could almost see her uncle jumping into his car and racing to his office to warn his sons that the sky was falling.
Just like Chicken Little.
“He wasn’t happy to see me?”
“Of course he was,” Baylor lied with smooth ease. “My father was heartbroken at the loss of his brother and sister-in-law. And it only made matters worse when your grandparents cut off all contact with you.”
She snorted. “But.”
“Excuse me?”
“I sense a ‘but,’” she said. “You know. Uncle Lawrence is happy to see me, but . . .”
A flush stained the pale face. “He is happy.”
Carmen arched a brow. “But.”
“But he is curious why you would choose this moment to travel to Louisville.”
She felt Griff reach beneath the table to lay his hand on her knee. A silent warning not to give away the fact that they were in town for more than a family reunion.
She shrugged. “I have a few weeks before my next book tour starts. And it’s the time of year most people want to visit their family.”
He studied her with his snake-gaze, clearly not comforted by her explanation.
“And that’s all? Just a long overdue reunion?” he demanded.
She looked confused. “What else could it be?”
There was a long silence before Baylor turned his attention to the man seated next to her.
“My dad mentioned a conversation with you, Mr. Archer.”
“Griff.”
“Griff,” Baylor stiffly agreed. “My father said that you were interested in the family business.”
Griff shifted in his seat, angling forward. A subtle gesture of dominance.
“Carmen is a part of your family, whether you want to recognize her or not.”
Baylor’s fingers stopped their drumming and clenched into a fist. “She is certainly a part of the family. A most welcome part.”
Carmen rolled her eyes. “Again with the but,” she muttered.
Baylor ignored her. Was he one of those men who thought women should be seen and not heard? Or did he assume Griff was the one pressing Carmen to try to claim her inheritance?
As if he wasn’t worth billions.
“But not the business. That was created by my father out of the ruins of the original stores.” He sent a brief glance toward Carmen. “I’m afraid that there’s nothing left of your father’s inheritance.”
“And the house?” Griff demanded.
A darkness filled the hazel eyes. “It is always given to the eldest son. A feudal system, but that’s how the will was set up by my grandfather.”
Carmen didn’t need to read minds to know what her cousin thought about the house being handed over to his brother.
“So you’ll be left in the cold?” she prodded. “Just like me.”
His jaw hardened. “Someday I’ll build my own estate.”
“I’m still not sure why you insisted on this meeting,” she said, veering back on topic. So far she hadn’t learned anything of interest. Time to shake things up. “If you wanted to convince me I have no right to your money, you could have waited until Christmas lunch. Then the whole family could have all banded together to make me feel like a gold digger.”
Baylor stiffened, and then he tried to look contrite.
“I’m sorry, I’m not doing a very good job with this.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t be a job,” she pointed out. “Maybe I should just be your cousin.”
He released a heavy sigh, his expression difficult to read in the shadows of the arch.
“Carrie—”
“Carmen.”
“Carmen,” he forced himself to say. “I’m sorry. Father was worried you might be here to cause trouble and I promised that I would have a word with you. I realize now that this was all a mistake.” He studied her face, as if judging whether she was going to accept his apology. “Can we start over?”
Intent on Baylor, Carmen gave a small jump when a shadow fell over the table and a hand landed on Baylor’s shoulder.
“I can see I’m too late,” a male voice drawled. “You’ve already managed to piss everyone off, haven’t you, bro?”
Carmen glanced up at the man who’d silently appeared next to her.
Matthew Jacobs had a vague resemblance to his younger brother, but everything about him was . . . more.
His features were more finely carved, his hair was a rich mahogany and tousled in a way that made him look like some woman had just run her fingers through it. He had a shadow of whiskers on his square jaw and he was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a silver cashmere sweater. His green eyes glittered with a roguish sense of humor. But when he smiled, he abruptly reminded Carmen of a shark.
All pearly white teeth and ruthless hunger.
She shivered, wondering if it was her imagination that was causing her to look at her own family like they were dangerous animals.
“Matthew, what are you doing here?” Baylor demanded, roughly knocking his brother’s hand off his shoulder.
“Cleaning up your mess, as usual,” Matthew said, his gaze never wavering from Carmen.
“You—” Baylor halted, before he cleared his throat and attempted to disguise his obvious dislike for Matthew. “Carmen, you remember my brother?”
“Of course,” she said. “Hello, Matthew.”
“Exquisite,” he said, his gaze skimming over her face before his interest turned to the silent man at her side. “And Mr. Archer.”
“Please, call me Griff.”
“Griff,” Matthew agreed, holding out his hand. “This is quite an honor. My brother will tell you I’m not much of a businessman, but even I’ve heard of you.”
Griff rose to shake hands before sliding back into his seat, his arm moving to rest across her shoulders. She didn’t mind. Confronting her cousins was just as difficult as she’d expected it to be.
“I’m not sure if that’s good or bad,” he said.
“Good for you, and bad for me.” Matthew flashed his shark smile. “Once the word that you’re in town gets around you’ll be inundated with invitations, and I’ll be a forgotten has-been.”
“I’m not here to party,” Griff said.
Matthew shrugged. “No, according to my frantic father and bumbling brother, you’re here to steal away our fortune.”
“Matthew,” Baylor snapped, his face flushed.
Carmen broke into the looming squabble. “I assume you’ve come here to ask the same questions?”
Matthew raised a hand to press it to the center of his chest in a gesture of sincerity.
“No, I’m here to welcome my cousin to our home,” he assured her. “I’m very happy to have you here, my dear, and I personally hope you’ll consider staying so we can have a proper reunion.”
She hid her grimace. Matthew had a slick charm that she’d encountered too many times during her book tour.
“I plan to come to lunch tomorrow,” she told him.
“Good. Perhaps if you stay a few more days we could plan a proper celebration—”
“I thought you were skiing in Aspen after Christmas?” Baylor interrupted.
Matthew snapped his fingers, as if he’d just remembered his plans.
“That’s right.” He sent Carmen a regretful glance. “I’m afraid I already have my reservations.”
“Please don’t change them on my account,” Carmen said, her interest captured by his casual words.
“We’ll still have tomorrow,” Matthew said.
“Do you travel a lot?” she asked.
What Are You Afraid Of? Page 15