“What you look like naked,” Royce put in.
Jared waved a dismissive hand. “It’s not like we took pictures.”
“Good to know.”
Jared gazed out the wide window, letting his vision go soft on the city lights. He’d expected the night to turn out very differently. Even now, even knowing Melissa was a traitor, on some level he wished she was lying in the king-size bed, sexy, naked, waiting for him to join her.
“What’s she got?” Royce asked quietly.
Jared blinked his attention back to his brother.
He had to tell him. There was no way around it.
He’d been colossally stupid to share it with a perfect stranger.
“Gramps,” he said. Then he tugged off his tie, tossing it on the table.
Royce’s eyes narrowed.
“He told me something. Right before he died.” Jared drew a breath. “He told me Dad killed Frank Stanton.”
The room went completely silent.
Jared dared to flick a glance at Royce.
His brother was still, eyes unblinking, hands loose on the padded arms of the chair. “I know.”
Jared drew back. “What?”
Royce took a sip of his drink. “I’ve always known.”
Jared took a second to process the information. Royce knew? He’d kept silent all these years?
“I don’t understand,” said Jared.
Royce came to his feet, then carried his drink across the room, turning when he came to the window. “The day it happened. The day they died. I found a letter Mom had written to Dad. It was half-finished. It said she loved Frank. It said she was leaving Dad. She was leaving us.” He took another sip. “You didn’t tell me?”
His brother was silent for a long moment. “You know, sometimes, when you have to keep a secret? The only person who can know is you. The second—” he snapped his fingers “—the second you let that knowledge out of your brain, you put it at risk. I knew that. Even at thirteen years old.”
Jared couldn’t believe his brother hadn’t trusted him. “I would never have—”
“Our father was a murderer. Our mother was unfaithful. And Stephanie was two years old.”
“You should have—”
“No. I shouldn’t have. I didn’t. And I was right.” Royce paused. “I didn’t know Gramps knew.”
“He threw the gun in the river,” said Jared.
Royce gave a half smile. “Good for him.”
“He got rid of the gun before they found Mom and Dad. He thought Dad would go on trial for murder.”
“Yeah.” Royce returned to his chair. “Well, what do you do? He protected his son. Who are we to decide how far a man goes?”
“Do you kill your wife’s lover?” The question had been nagging at Jared for weeks now. He couldn’t help picturing Melissa. And he couldn’t stop the cold rage that boiled up inside him at the thought of another man.
“I don’t have a wife,” said Royce. “I don’t have to make that decision.”
Jared nodded. “Simpler that way.”
“It is,” Royce agreed. He sat back down. “Do we tell Stephanie?”
Jared hated the thought of hurting his sister. But if the story came out in the article, she needed to be prepared. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but he feared it might.
“Not yet,” he answered Royce.
The Bizz was a monthly magazine. He’d have at least a few days to think about solutions.
So far, all he’d come up with was a plan to kidnap Melissa and lock her up in a tower in Tasmania or Madagascar with no telephone or Internet. Unfortunately his mind kept putting himself in the tower with her, in a big bed, where they’d make love until he tired of her. Which, if his wayward imagination was anything to go by, would take a very, very long time.
Ten
F rom the moment Melissa clicked the send button, she feared she’d made a mistake. While she certainly had the legal right to file her story on Jared, she wasn’t so sure she had the moral right to do it.
Then she’d tossed and turned all night long, imagining his anger, his reaction, Stephanie’s thoughts and feelings when she found out Melissa had been a fraud. Melissa was going to get a promotion out of this, no doubt about it. Seth was nearly beside himself with glee. Brandon was surly and sulking. And Everett himself had sent her an e-mail congratulating her on the coup.
Susan had guessed she was feeling guilty. But in her usual pragmatic style, she’d advised Melissa to put it behind her and focus on her future. Jared was a big boy, and he’d get over the inroad on his precious privacy.
It was a positive article. The quotes Melissa had used were accurate. She hadn’t made anybody look foolish or mean-spirited. She’d mentioned Stephanie’s jumping trophies, Jared’s hardworking ancestors, his move from cattle ranching to construction to save the family’s land. And she’d made Royce look like a fun-loving maverick. He’d probably get a dozen marriage proposals out of the coverage.
She hadn’t used a single thing she’d learned from sleeping with Jared. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling she was wrong.
It lasted through her morning shower, through the breakfast she couldn’t bring herself to eat, during the train ride to the office in the morning, up the elevator to her floor and then all the way to her desk.
Jared was an intensely private man. She’d invaded his privacy on false pretenses. And even though she hadn’t used their pillow talk in her article, she’d crossed a line. She’d befriended him. She’d gained his trust. She’d let him think he could let his guard down, and he had.
Plus, and here was the crux of the matter, she’d fallen in love with him. And you didn’t betray the person you loved. You were loyal, no matter what the circumstances, no matter what was to be gained or lost. You were loyal.
That was why Jared’s grandfather hid the gun. An extreme example, perhaps. But his loyalty was to his son, and he’d risked his freedom to protect him. Melissa wouldn’t even give up a promotion.
She dropped her purse on her desk, her gaze going to Seth’s office. His head was bent over his desk—no doubt he was working his way through her article. It would go upstairs by lunchtime, be typeset by the end of the day and move along the pipe to the printing press.
At that point, nothing could stop it from hitting the streets. She had one chance and one chance only to make things right. Jared might not love her, and he might never speak to her again. But she loved him, and she had to live with herself after today.
She crossed the floor to Seth’s office, opening the door without knocking.
He jerked his head up. “What?”
“I’ve changed my mind,” she said without preamble, striding to his desk.
His mouth dropped open in confusion.
“The article,” she clarified. “You can’t run it.”
Seth’s mouth worked for a second before it warmed up to actual words. “Is this a joke? It’s not funny. Now get the hell out of my office. I have work to do.”
“I’m not joking.”
“Neither am I. Get out.”
“Jared Ryder does not want us to print it.”
“Jared Ryder can stuff it. We need the numbers.”
Melissa began to panic. “You can’t run it.”
“Yes, I can.”
She scrambled for a solution. “I lied, Seth,” she lied baldly. “I made it up. The quotes are bogus, and I was never on the Ryder Ranch.”
Seth’s complexion went ruddy, and a vein popped out in his forehead. “Have you gone insane?”
“I’ll swear to it, Seth. I’ll tell the whole world I made up the story.”
“And I’ll fire your ass.”
“I don’t care!” she shouted. She had to stop him. She couldn’t let her work see the light of day.
Seth’s gaze shifted to a point over her left shoulder and his eyes went wide.
Fear churned in her stomach, but she carried on, anyway. It was her last chance to make things
right. “If you run it, I’ll swear I made the whole piece up. The Bizz will get sued, and you’ll lose your job.”
Seth’s mouth worked, but no sound came out.
“Don’t test me on this, Seth,” she vowed. “Pull the article. I’ll quit. I’ll go away quietly. You can make up whatever you want to tell Everett.”
“Noble of you,” came a voice behind her.
Everett. The publisher had heard her threats.
Not that she’d expected to keep her job, anyway, but it was humiliating to have an additional witness. She clamped her jaw, squared her shoulders and headed for the door.
Her stomach instantly turned to a block of ice.
In the doorway next to Everett stood Jared. They both stared at her, faces devoid of expression.
Neither of them said a word as she forced one foot in front of the other. She prayed they’d step aside and give her room to get out the door.
They did, but inches before freedom, Jared put a hand on her arm. Neither of them looked at the other, and his voice was gruff. “Why’d you pull the story?”
She struggled with the cascade of conflicting emotions that swamped her body. She was proud of herself. She was brokenhearted. She was frightened and unemployed and exhausted.
She decided she owed him her honesty. So she glanced up and forced the words out. “The same reason your grandfather did what he did.”
Love. Plain and simple. When you loved someone, you protected them, even at a risk to yourself.
Then she jerked away, grabbed her purse from her desk and kept right on going to the elevator.
Jared’s first impression of Seth Strickland was hardly positive, so he didn’t much care now that the man looked like he was going to wet his pants. Seth had shouted at Melissa. And while he was shouting, it was all Jared could do not to wring his pudgy little neck.
Jared might be angry with her, but that didn’t give anyone else license to hurt her. Sure, she’d betrayed him. But she was fundamentally a decent person. Even now, he was battling the urge to chase after her. Not that he knew what he’d say. Not that he even understood what had just happened.
She’d behaved in a completely incomprehensible manner. Of course, she’d baffled him from the moment they met.
While Jared struggled to put her in context, Everett stepped into the office, moved to one side, then gestured for Jared to enter.
Everett shut the door firmly behind them and focused on the sweating Seth Strickland. “Mr. Ryder, this is Seth Strickland, Windy City Bizz’s managing editor. For now. Seth, this is Mr. Jared Ryder, the new owner of Windy City Bizz.”
Seth’s jaw dropped a notch further.
Jared didn’t bother with pleasantries. It seemed a little ridiculous after what they’d just witnessed.
“Is this a copy of the article?” He advanced on Seth’s desk and pointed to the papers piled in front of him. Seth nodded.
“We won’t be running it,” said Jared, lifting the pages from under Seth’s nose.
He gave Everett a polite smile. “Thank you for your time. One of Ryder International’s vice presidents will be in touch next week.”
Then he turned and exited the office. He couldn’t care less if Everett fired Seth or kept him on. Melissa wasn’t fired, that was for sure. And she could write for Seth or for anyone else in the company.
He took the elevator to the first floor, crossed the lobby, trotted down the outside stairs and slid into the Aston Martin idling at the curb.
“How’d it go?” asked Royce, pushing the car into gear and flipping on his signal.
“It’s taken care of,” said Jared.
“Good.” Royce gave a nod. Hard rock was blaring on the stereo, while the air conditioner battled the heat from the sunshine.
“Did you see Melissa come out the door?”
Royce zipped into the steady stream of traffic. “You saw Melissa?”
“She was inside.” Jared shoved his sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose.
“And?”
“And.” Jared drummed his fingers on the dashboard. “She was trying to get her editor to kill the article.”
Royce glanced at him for a split second before turning his attention to the busy intersection. “What? Why?”
“Beats the hell out of me. The guy fired her.”
“She lost her job?”
“No. Of course she didn’t lose her job. She works for us now, remember?”
“And you don’t think we should fire her?”
Jared killed the clanging music. He needed to think.
“Jared?” Royce prompted.
“Why would she kill the article?” Her cryptic remark about his grandfather didn’t make sense.
“Maybe she’s afraid of getting sued.”
Jared glanced down at the papers in his hand. He scanned one page, then another, then another. The story was innocuous. It was lightweight to the point of being boring.
“Anything about Gramps?” asked Royce as they turned to parallel the lakeshore. Skyscrapers loomed to one side, blocking the sun.
“Nothing. It’s crap.”
“She’s a bad writer?”
“No. She’s a fine writer. But she held back. She had a ton of stuff on me.” He flipped through the pages again. “She didn’t use any of it.”
“Then why did she try to pull it?”
“I asked her,” Jared admitted, flashing back to that moment, remembering her expression, remembering the emotional body slam of seeing her again, his desire to attack Seth and to chase after Melissa.
“Bro?” Royce prompted.
Jared cleared his throat. “She said it was the same reason Gramps did what he did.”
Royce’s hand came down on the steering wheel. “All this, and the woman’s talking in riddles?”
Jared rolled it over in his mind. “Why did Gramps do what he did?”
“To protect Dad.”
“Why?”
“Because he was his son.”
“And…”
The brothers looked at each other, sharing an instant of comprehension. Gramps had protected Jared’s father because he loved him.
“Holy crap,” said Royce.
“Not what I needed to know,” said Jared.
“Do you care?” Royce pressed.
Jared swore out loud. “She lied to me. She duped me. She invaded the hell out of my privacy.” He slammed the pages onto his lap.
“Yet you love her, anyway,” Royce guessed.
Jared clamped his jaw shut. Did he love Melissa? How could he love an illusion? He didn’t even know which parts were her and which were the lie.
“And she loves you,” Royce continued. He slowed for a stoplight, gearing the car down.
“I need a drink.”
The woman was a damn fine illusion. If even half of what he’d seen of her was real, it might be enough. Hell, it would be enough.
“What are you going to do?”
“Drink,” said Jared.
Royce laughed. “Since you’re not denying it and since you’re even considering her, I’d say you absolutely need a drink. You’ve got it very bad, big brother.”
“Why her?”
“It doesn’t matter why her. It’s done.”
“Nothing’s done.” Jared certainly hadn’t made any decisions. He was barely wrapping his head around falling for Melissa.
“You forget, I watched you watch her,” said Royce. “You were never letting her go to Seattle.”
“She never was going to Seattle. It was all a lie.”
Royce shook his head and laughed. He glanced in the rearview mirror. Then he spun the steering wheel, yanked the hand brake and pivoted the car in a sharp u-turn.
“What are you doing?” Jared stabilized himself with the armrest.
“You do need a drink.” Royce screeched to a stop in front of the Hilliard House tavern’s valet parking. “If only to come to terms with the rest of your life.”
Melissa should have reali
zed her brother Caleb would call in reinforcements. She’d found herself at his house Saturday morning, looking for emotional support. Caleb was the most sympathetic of her brothers, and she’d really needed a shoulder to cry on.
Within an hour, Ben and Sheila had arrived, their baby and two-year-old in tow. Then Eddy showed up, without the new girlfriend, demonstrating how seriously he was taking the situation. He was quick to envelop Melissa in a protective hug, and she had to battle a fresh round of tears.
Soon all her siblings and her nieces and nephews filled Caleb’s big house with love and support. The jumble of their conversations and chaos of the children provided a buffer between Melissa and her raw emotions.
She’d told herself she couldn’t be in love with Jared. Maybe it was infatuation. Maybe it was lust. She hadn’t known him long enough for it to be real love.
But then she’d remember his voice, his smile, his jokes, his passion and the way she’d felt in his arms. What if it was real love? How was she going to get over it?
She swallowed, smiling as one of her nephews handed her a sticky wooden block, forcing her thoughts to the present.
The doors and windows of Caleb’s house were wide open to the afternoon breeze. Some of her brothers were shooting hoops in the driveway while Adam cranked up the grill on the back deck and distributed bottles of imported beer. His wife, Renee, was calling out orders from the kitchen.
Melissa and her sister-in-law Sheila were corralling toddlers on the living-room floor, amid a jumble of blocks, action figures and miniature cars.
“Mellie?” Caleb’s voice interrupted the game.
Melissa glanced up.
Her brother’s brow was furrowed with concern, and she quickly saw the reason why.
Jared stood in the foyer, his suit and tie contrasting with the casual T-shirt and jeans Caleb wore.
She scrambled to her feet, drinking in his appearance, wishing she wasn’t so pathetically glad to see him as she crammed her messy hair behind her ears. She hoped her eyes weren’t red. She hoped he couldn’t read how lonely she’d been the past few days. She’d fallen asleep each night with his image in her mind, longing to feel his strong arms wrapped around her.
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