by Carrie Elks
He’d been walking through the still room a lot these past few days. It was amazing how long they could stare at each other silently before he turned to do whatever he came in for.
His eyes crinkled with amusement. “Will we be dead from murder, or from something else?”
“Either. Both. I just don’t think we should risk it. What time should I get there?”
He didn’t look pleased. But she needed the drive to center herself. It was one night, and it was all pretend. She needed to get used to that.
“Can you arrive by three? I’ll send you the address.”
“It’s okay, your mother already sent it to me.”
Daniel gave her a sidelong glance. “You’ve spoken with my mother?”
Becca managed not to smile. “Extensively. I can’t believe you let her show your naked baby photos to strangers. Especially when you were such an ugly kid.”
His lips twitched. “I was a beautiful baby. Everybody says so.”
A lick of flame rushed through her blood. “It’s weird how looks change as we get older. Some people grow into their beauty and some…” She gave a dramatic sigh, and patted his rock hard bicep. “At least you have your memories.”
His muscle flexed beneath her palm. It made her feel sweaty. An image of him flashed through her mind, naked above her, his arms on either side, his biceps tense and sinewy as he slowly moved inside her…
“Becca?”
She blinked back to reality. “Sorry, I missed that.”
He gave her a cocky smile, as though he knew exactly where her thoughts had been. “I asked you about your dress. You haven’t sent me the receipt for it.”
“I didn’t buy one. I figure a skirt and blouse will be okay, right?”
His eyes dipped down, scanning her body. “I’m sure you’ll look beautiful in anything.”
Gah, he wasn’t easy to bait.
And she was sure he was going to be devastating in a dinner suit and crisp white shirt. “Thank you. And for the record, I’m borrowing a dress from Mia.”
“She knows you’re coming to the ball?” He didn’t seem annoyed, just surprised.
“I had to tell her. But she won’t tell anybody else. She’s discreet.”
“What’s there to be discreet about?” he asked, his voice low. “We’re just going to an evening at my brother’s. It’s not like I’m taking you to a sex den and tying you to the wall.”
Her body pulsed. Damn, what was wrong with her? “I’d rather my brothers didn’t find out.”
“Why?” He seemed genuinely interested. As though he couldn’t figure her out.
“Because if they find out, they’re going to grill me. And it’s not worth it, because after Saturday you’re just my boss, right?”
“Right.” His voice was low. Gritted. His dark eyes swept her face.
“That’s the deal, isn’t it?” she asked softly. “We go to the ball, we dance together, then it’s done. Over. You get the refinancing, I get to lead the project.”
His mouth tightened. “Is that what you want?”
“To dance with you?” She shrugged. “I can endure it. For my job.”
“But you might not survive it,” he murmured. “That’s what I’m worried about. You’ll probably die and I’ll end up one distiller short.”
Becca grinned. She liked dark and dangerous Daniel. But she loved it even more when he teased her. “I’ll pull you down with me. We can die together. It’ll be a scandal Charleston whispers about for years. The infamous night when two people were slayed by a dance.”
“I can live with that.” He lifted a brow. “They talk about me anyway. At least this will liven up their boring lives.”
“What do they say?”
“About me?” A flash of something she couldn’t quite understand crossed his features. “If I told you, you wouldn’t come.”
“And you want me to come?” She tilted her head. “Interesting.”
“I’m planning on using you as a human shield, to stop all the matriarchs from throwing their eligible daughters at me.” He lifted his arms up, his hands curled as though he was holding an imaginary Becca in front of him. He moved them from side to side as though he was protecting himself from flying potential dates. “Bam, bam, take that you Mariannes and Elizabeths. You’re no match for Becca Hartson.”
She shook her head. “You’re weird.”
“I know.” His glance was almost fond. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Becca.” Then he was gone, and she was thankful that the still room was empty, because there was no hiding her blush.
The last time she drove to Charleston, she hadn’t really taken in the timeless splendour of the town. She’d been too busy eyeing her GPS and feeling jittery about the box Daniel had asked her to bring, to notice the pretty, leafy city in her full glory. Built in the late seventeen hundreds where the Elk and Kanawha Rivers joined, the city had begun as so many back then as a fort, occupied by Colonel Savannah Clendenin and his company of Virginia Rangers.
The city’s buildings were a strange mixture of old and new, sleek towerblocks dwarfing quaint nineteenth century churches, with the golden dome of the Capitol glinting in the afternoon sun. Becca followed the directions to Eliana Scott-Carter’s tall redbrick manor, parking her car in the driveway alongside Daniel’s sleek Corvette and an elegant black town car. She switched off the engine and looked up at the sweeping white stone steps that led to a stucco porch. If the door opened and a nineteenth century belle ran out, holding her crinoline skirt to stop herself from tripping, she wouldn’t look out of place.
Climbing out of the car, Becca patted her hair, making sure it was still as shiny and wavy as when she’d left the salon. She’d given her stylist Lainey – who happened to be best friends with Courtney, Logan’s wife – a tall story about a trip to Charleston where she was to attend a company dinner. She’d even lied to her Aunt Gina, the woman who’d brought her up since she was a toddler. She wouldn’t be surprised if lightning struck her down.
The front door opened, and Daniel walked out. The waning sun caught his dark hair, bouncing off it, casting a shadow on his face as he stalked toward the car. Her heart skipped again. She was getting used to it now. Maybe she’d always feel like this, even when she was seventy and retired and occasionally saw him at the grocery store.
“How was your trip?” he asked, leaning into her trunk as she popped it open. He carefully pulled out the dress bag, looping the hanger over his finger, then took her overnight suitcase in his other hand.
“Slower than yours, obviously. But that wouldn’t be difficult.”
He smiled. “You have a terrible opinion of my driving. I kept to the speed limit all the way.”
“I imagine that’s not easy.” She glanced at his car. It looked as dark and foreboding as he did.
“Come inside,” he said smoothly, inclining his head at the house. “I’ll have Rona take your dress to your room. Do you need it steamed?”
“Rona?” Becca walked up the steps.
“The housekeeper.” As if by magic, she appeared. A fifty-something lady, by the look of her. She gave Becca a warm smile and took the dress from Daniel.
“There’s sweet tea and cookies in the day room,” she told them. “Would you like me to make some sandwiches?”
“Not for me, thank you. But the cookies sound delicious.” Becca returned her smile.
“We’re fine. Thank you, Rona.” Daniel gave her a nod.
“Well, let me know if you change your minds. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” She gave Becca another smile – and maybe a little scrutiny, too – then turned to carry the dress away.
“Is your mom here?” Becca asked him.
“She’s at the salon in town. Said to give you her apologies, but she’ll be back by five.” Daniel put her case down. “Would you like a tour of the place while we wait?”
“I’d like that very much.”
He was casual today. In a grey t-shirt and washed out jeans, his
hair its usual messy glory as he raked his hand through it. “Well, you’ve seen the hall,” he said, leading her down the wide corridor. Her shoes clacked against the marble tiles. “At the very end is the kitchen and scullery. That’s where you’ll find Rona if you need her. She’s always happy to cook, so if you’re hungry, go see her.”
“I will.”
“Through here is the drawing room.” He opened a heavy oak door, taking her into an oversized living space, filled with what looked like antique chairs and tables, with heavy silken drapes framing the Georgian windows. “And through that door,” he walked over, pushing it open. “Is the dining room.”
“The scene of tomorrow’s duel at dawn.”
His lips twitched. “We’ll be using our wits instead of pistols, but yeah, that’s where I’m meeting Nina and Lawrence.”
Becca followed him around the rest of the house, taking in the beautiful artwork, the polished antique furniture, and the maze of rooms that led from one to another. “How long has your mother had this place?” she asked him, as they emerged back into the hallway. “Didn’t she live with your father in the Jackson-Carter house when he was alive?”
“You remember. Very good. And yes, we lived there when we visited Charleston. But this house is from my mother’s side of the family. She inherited it when her own mother died. She made this her Charleston residence when Lawrence took over the family estate.”
“That must have been hard for her to leave.” Even though this place was huge.
“I imagine so.” Daniel’s voice was dry. “But she didn’t get a choice.” He inclined his head at the stairs, pressing his hand against Becca’s back as they walked up the wide staircase. “My mother’s suite of rooms is in there,” he said, as they passed a closed door. “Including her office.” They turned a corner, past more doors. “These are bedrooms. Family ones, originally. Now they mostly house old furniture and art.”
He pushed his hand against another door, stepping through. “And this is the guest wing. Where we’ll be sleeping.”
It smelled fresh, as though it had just been cleaned. But there was an emptiness in the area that wasn’t present in the other parts of the house. As though it was barely lived in.
He opened the first door. “My room,” he murmured. She looked over his shoulder. Inside was an oversize bed and modern furniture.
He continued down the corridor, past two more doors. “And yours,” he said, when they reached the final one. He pushed the handle down and walked inside. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, bleaching the cream carpet to a paler white.
“It’s a long way from your room. Is she worried I might steal your virtue?” Becca teased.
Daniel grinned. She’d forgotten how heartbreaking his smile was. When he was in Scotland, he probably left broken hearts scattered all over the highlands. “Maybe she’s worried I might try to steal yours.”
“Will you?” She looked at him, a smile playing at her lips. He swallowed hard, his throat undulating.
“It’s tempting.”
Her heart did a little leap. She could feel the electricity flowing between them, making her skin heat up. He said nothing, his dark eyes wary as he scanned her face.
“Are you afraid of me?” she whispered, trying to work out his emotions.
He shook his head. “I’m afraid of me,” he said gruffly, then took a step back. “You have your own bathroom,” he continued, as though their flirtation hadn’t happened. “Fresh towels are in the closet, and there are toiletries in there if you want them. We’ll have a light meal at five and leave at seven.”
“Won’t we be eating at the ball?” Becca asked.
Daniel snorted. “There’ll be food there, if that’s what you’re asking. But nobody really eats it. They’re too busy gossiping and networking to spear a chicken tender with their fork. Plus, the drink my brother serves is potent. So we eat before we go.”
“And too busy dancing,” Becca prompted.
His chin lifted as he looked at her. “Possibly.”
“And kissing.” She was playing with him now. Like a cat and a bird.
“Kissing?” His brow arched. “Will there be kissing?”
“I know you’ll be thinking about it all night.” She leaned back against the wall, flattening her hands against the painted plaster.
“Is that right?” He seemed amused. “Because I notice that you’re the one who brought it up. Not that I blame you after the last kiss. I saw how it affected you.”
“It affected you, too.”
He swallowed. “It did. But tonight we’ll be in public. So unless you plan on tearing my clothes off in the middle of the ballroom, I imagine it won’t be quite so… potent.”
Becca shrugged. “If you say so. I’m not the one who refused to kiss again because, and I quote, If we kiss I’ll carry you to your bedroom and strip your clothing off and neither of us will survive it.” She smiled smugly. Game, set, and match.
He stared at her for a moment, his lips soft, his eyes narrowed. He was so damn masculine she could feel his potency pulse in the air between them. “Freshen up,” he said, “And then come down. I’ll ask Rona to make us some coffee.”
“What are we going to do, then?” she asked. “It’s a couple of hours before I need to get ready.”
“You could make use of the library. Or we could play a game.” He shrugged.
“What kind of game?”
He chuckled. “The board type of game, very boring, I know. We have everything here. Chess, Scrabble, Monopoly, there’s even an old Ludo set somewhere.”
She smiled, because he had no idea how much she loved board games. She’d spent most of her childhood running around after one brother or another begging them to sit at the table and play. She was a scion at Monopoly, a ninja at Scrabble. She could even muster a passable Queen’s Gambit if she concentrated properly. But there was one thing she loved more than anything else.
“Do you have a pack of cards?” she asked, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice.
“About a dozen of them.”
“Okay then, I’ll be down in ten minutes.”
Becca Hartson never ceased to surprise him. Daniel bit down a smile as she laid out her hand, squealing with excitement when her straight flush beat his three of a kind.
“Dammit, I should have made a higher bet,” she said, pulling the pile of matchsticks toward her. “I always undercall the worth of my hand.”
“I didn’t expect you to be so competitive.” He pulled the cards toward him, shuffling them easily.
“You forget I grew up with four brothers. I spent hours teaching myself poker just so they’d let me join in on their card nights.” She played with a matchstick, twirling it between her fingers. “Anyway, you’re as bad as me. I saw you fist pump when you beat my three aces earlier.”
“You noticed that? I’ll have to be more discreet next time.” She looked so happy, gazing down at her matchsticks as though they were worth something more than kudos. It made him feel warm inside. What would it be like to make her smile like that every day? “And for the record, I’m worse than you. I was competitive from the moment I was born. Before, probably.”
She blinked. “How so?”
It was so easy to talk to her. He had to be on his guard to not let too much slip. “Let’s just say I had a role to play from day one. To vindicate and validate my parents’ relationship. To be the best son in the family.” And it almost ripped him to shreds.
She leaned her jaw on her hand, propping her elbow on the card table. Her dark hair flowed in waves past her shoulders. “And Nathan? Did he have the same role?”
“You’re still interested in my brother?” It was a tease, but also a little stab in his chest.
“Not in that way, no.” She smiled. “And you know it. Nathan and I have only ever been friends.”
He tipped his head to the side, noticing a pulse dancing on her throat. “How about us?” he asked. “Are we friends?”
“Is that a no?” There was a tightness in his chest that he wasn’t expecting.
“Do you want me to be your friend?”
“I don’t know.” He smiled gently. “Maybe. I guess I don’t have that many around here. Hence why I asked you to bring my insulin up last week.”
She pulled her lip between her teeth, gazing at him intently. He could feel the pull between them again. He was getting used to it now. Had stopped fighting it. It was a battle he was never destined to win.
“Daniel? Becca?” His mother’s voice echoed from the hallway. “Where are you?”
He pulled his eyes from Becca’s. “In the library. We’re playing cards.”
Eliana pushed the door open, smiling when she saw them sitting at the old baize-topped card table. “How lovely,” she said. “Nobody’s used that table for years. Remember when you and Nathan used to play Snap on there?” She moved her attention to Becca. “I’m so glad you’re here. Do you have everything you need?” She took a breath. “Please tell me Daniel has at least showed you to your room.”
Becca’s eyes flickered, meeting his. “He’s been the consummate host.”
A smile ghosted his lips. “You’ve been an easy guest. Even if you do insist on trouncing me at poker.”
“Is that what you’re playing?” Eliana asked, walking into the library, looking elegantly put together.
“Your hair looks beautiful,” Becca said. “Have you had it colored?”
“Just a little tint.” Eliana touched the back of her head, her gorgeous white bob looking sleek beneath the library lights. “I was worried it would be too much.”
“Not at all. It’s perfect. And I love your dress. You always have the best style.”
“You should bring Becca home more often,” his mother said to Daniel. “She’s wonderful for my ego.”