“I can tell you’ve already made progress with him.”
“Any advice?”
She pulled another card. “Three of cups. It’s a trio of maidens frolicking and dancing. You should definitely let him dance. Let’s see what else…” Overflowing cups raised high, lush fruits gathered at their feet. She read the notes aloud, trying to sound spontaneous. “ ‘This is a card of fun, celebration, marriage and birth—’ ”
“That again? Are you sure?”
“Um, I would say you should try to do things that are just fun with your son. Don’t be so goal oriented. Let yourself get silly once in a while.”
“Silly?”
“Do you ever joke and laugh together?”
The long silence on the phone gave Casey a pretty good idea what his answer was. She couldn’t help probing a bit. “Did you ever act silly with your own father?”
Instead of a reply, he released a heavy sigh and said, “Well, I’ve kept you over a half hour and—”
“Oh no!” She hadn’t unlocked the front door of the studio. Her students would need to change into their tights and do their warm up exercises.
“Won’t your next customer just get a busy signal and call back?”
“I guess so.” Casey trotted to the front window and saw a few girls waiting on the stoop. “Well, good luck to you, Dionysus.”
“Thanks, Lumina.”
She set the phone on the kitchen table and raced down the stairs.
***
Drew crossed the manicured lawn of his Southampton home and squatted next to the kidney shaped pool where his father floated in a foam chair. “Aren’t you still on medication? Didn’t Dr. Sprague tell you not to drink?”
“Jack Daniels is good for your heart.” Andrew Sr. clinked the ice in his rock glass. “No, my boy, this is all the medication I need. Can take all that other prescription crap and flush it down the damn toilet.” He gestured with his drink. “Want one?”
“Too early for me.”
“Well, I say, no time like the present.” He knocked back a gulp. “How’s that deal going with Ukiter Tools?”
“So far, so good.”
“Those sons of bitches got warehouses lined up all the way from here to Las Vegas. If they merge with Jenklin Brothers they could take a big chunk out of our west coast market. What you want to do is—”
“Dad, I don’t feel like going over this. I came home for a break.” Actually he’d come home early for a different reason, but now he wasn’t so sure.
Andrew Sr. pushed his Armani shades up with his middle finger. “Taking off kind of early, don’t you think?”
“Got something I want to do at six.”
“What could be more important than finishing up that new—”
“Save it, Dad.” Drew thought about Madame Lumina asking if he’d ever laughed and acted goofy with his father. She might as well have asked if he’d ever gone to Mars. Life was nothing but an endless game of conquest to Andrew Byrne Sr. Drew couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever relaxed in his presence.
“Just checking up, that’s all.”
“You’re always checking up.”
“Look who’s talking. Minute you get home you start bugging me about having a drink.” He drained the glass and set it on the side of the pool. “You get that from your mother. She’d sit there at the table potshotting me all night long. Second I opened my mouth she’d accuse me of being the tyrant. Now that’s what I call turning the tables. A world class manipulator.”
Drew remembered his parents’ fights all too well. His self-centered mother barely noticed his existence. Always going somewhere with her friends because his father was never home. Then on the rare evenings when he appeared, all her frustration came pouring out on her husband. With Drew in the crossfire.
Thank God for his grandma. He used to hide in her room to get away from his parents’ violent arguments. He hadn’t known then that it was women as well as work that had kept his dad out at night. And as a boy desperate for the approval of his domineering father, he’d taken his side and blamed his mother when she left him for another man. And although his mother had never been too motherly, Drew still regretted it. “You weren’t exactly innocent, Dad.”
“Hah. I should’ve been more like my father.”
“Like your father was such a great guy.”
“He was a survivor. Came up the hard way. Fighting his way to the top from the street. The man had to be tough. Had to do the things he did in order to raise a family.”
Drew had heard it all so many times before. As if he didn’t know what hard work was. As if he hadn’t pushed himself to the brink to take his father’s regional company into the big leagues. “He abused Grandma.”
“She needed to be kept in her place. Women of that generation expected it. And she encouraged it with that mouth of hers.”
Drew growled under his breath. His dear, loving grandmother had been his refuge growing up. “Yeah, well, I thank her memory each day for my relative sanity.”
His father glared at him. “I took care of her all those years when she was alone, didn’t I? Had her come live with us as soon as the old man died, didn’t I? If it weren’t for my taking her in, you wouldn’t have had her to mother you. That’s what you like to say, isn’t it? That she raised you? When it was really me. I’m the one who got you to the top of the heap.” He pointed to his glass. “Refill that for me.”
Knowing he’d pay later if he refused, Drew picked up the rock glass and walked to a gazebo a few feet away. He saw the bottle of Jack Daniels next to an ice bucket on the wooden picnic table. Which told him this had to be drink number three or four or who knew how many. Thinking his father had too much time on his hands, Drew said, “You should come into our offices a few days a week.”
“Hey, buddy, I earned my leisure time. And if you’re not man enough to handle the company without me—”
“It’s just a suggestion.”
“Well, I make the suggestions around here. Orders go from the top down. Don’t you forget that.”
He turned to leave and his father said, “What’s this appointment you’ve got at six?”
Drew had originally stopped at home planning to ask his father to come to the movies with him and Josh. He’d even thought he would tell him about his plans to buy a dance studio in the North Fork. And maybe a vineyard. Things that somehow made him feel fresh and new.
He’d told Casey it was about making money on an investment, but it wasn’t. The way she ran her life based on what was in her heart intrigued him. Hell, she intrigued him. He’d never met anyone like her. And between Casey and Madame Lumina Drew was beginning to believe he could change his stale, phony life into something real.
“I’m taking Josh to see the latest Spider-Man movie. Want to join us?”
“Now why would I want to do that when I’ve got all the cable I need right here?”
Seeing the hard line of his dad’s mouth, Drew didn’t waste his time with a lecture on fathers and sons. He just answered with a shrug and walked away.
Chapter Twelve
After teaching her Saturday classes, Casey drove her aging Honda Civic down toward Jamesport where Parker lived. Josh had come to her ten o’clock ballet this morning. She made no fuss over his return, knowing it would only embarrass him. But after his class ended and Casey went on to her eleven-thirty teens intermediate ballet, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from peeking into the lobby every minute in hopes of seeing Drew. But it was Heather who picked up Josh today.
After Drew’s session with Madame Lumina yesterday Casey expected he might ask her out again. She must have been in the shower when he called her studio phone last night. But all he did was leave a very businesslike message about contacting a realtor he knew. Nothing about calling him back. Casey realized she’d never given him her cell number and almost phoned him with that as an excuse. Then she decided it would make her appear too eager. He no doubt already had plenty of women chasing h
im. In fact, he was probably spending the weekend with one of them.
She kept telling herself it was better this way. Reminding herself of the rules she’d set down around men like Drew.
Too bad a big part of her wasn’t listening.
Turning off Route 25, her Honda moseyed down the dirt road that led to her brother’s house. Actually “house” was stretching it. What had once been a farmhouse stood in shambles waiting for the day Parker had the time and money to restore it. But he’d converted one of the outbuildings into a greenhouse and lived in it. With his plants.
She pulled up behind the 4x4 painted with the sign of Richardson’s Landscape Gardening and Lawncare. Reef, a shepherd and collie mix, and Skipper, a who-knew-what black-and-white mutt, circled her, barking, tails wagging. She bent to pet them and accept their slobbery greetings.
Parker’s tall muscular frame cut a handsome silhouette against the sun as he walked toward her, his casual and unhurried stride so unlike her own. Seemed he resembled her dad more and more lately. So grounded and quiet. Casey was more like her mother. She hated to admit it because they were often at odds. But they were both emotional and expressive.
“I’ve just got to finish tying up my sunflowers,” Parker said, giving his sister a hug. “Only a few left and we’re good to go. I think Berg Realtors has some possibilities.”
She walked with him past bushes and shrubs he’d planted toward a massive garden that bordered the woods at the edge of his property. “Listen up, bro. Change of plans. No studio hunt. But I remembered it was weeding day over here at tumbledown ranch. Figured you could use some help.”
“Don’t tell me Vonrelis has decided not to sell?”
“No, but I have a backer now who knows more about real estate than either of us.”
“A backer? Who?”
Casey hesitated. The last time she and Parker spoke about Drew Byrne he’d said he wouldn’t want him near his sister. “A parent of one of my students wants to invest in property around here and wants my dance academy to continue.” This area of the North Fork had such a mix of wealthy and working class families that a good half of her students had parents who could fit the bill.
Parker’s eyebrows lifted. “Sounds great. But are you sure they’re reliable?”
“My gut thinks so.” Casey pulled off her sneakers before stepping into the garden. She loved the feel of sunbaked clods of dirt under her feet. “This place is immaculate, Parker. I don’t even see any weeds.”
“Over here.” He led her down a path between sunflowers taller than herself to a patch of pepper plants next to rows of greens peas.
Casey went to work. Her long, flexible ham strings a plus, since she had no problem bending completely forward to reach the ground. She wore denim shorts and a sleeveless tee, and the warm sun felt good against her bare legs and arms.
But just as she began to relax, Parker said, “You going to tell me who it is?”
She stood up, hands defiantly on her hips. “Drew Byrne.”
Parker studied her for several moments. And with the simplest tilt of his head Casey could tell her brother had detected her more-than-friendly feelings for Drew.
“Want my opinion?” he said.
“I think I already know what it’s going to be. You don’t like him.”
“I just don’t want you to have deja vous all over again.”
“This is different.”
“Then why are you blushing?”
“Okay, so I kind of like the guy.” Casey turned away, crouched, and resumed her weeding.
Parker squatted on his haunches next to her. “Sorry, Casey, but Byrne reminds me too much of Jeff Renstadt. Flashy, arrogant, with movie star looks and money to burn. Have you forgotten how devastated you were when Jeff dumped you? It took you nearly two years to get over him.”
“That was seven years ago. I’d just turned twenty-one and was a real jerk.”
She’d gotten her first cocktail waitressing job for the summer season at an upscale restaurant bar in East Hampton. There she met Jeff, a confident, dark-haired pretty boy born and bred in the land of the debutante ball. Definitely GQ photo spread material. After a few rounds of drinks he reached out and took Casey’s hand with complete and utter confidence and slipped into it a crisp Ben Franklin. Both his hundred-dollar tip and his hand touching hers left her reeling.
Parker tugged at the weeds. “You weren’t a jerk. We grew up in rough circumstances. Any working class girl would be swept away by a guy who takes her into a world of luxurious estates, Lamborghinis, private jets and ninety foot yachts.”
“I was also bowled over by the fact that this outrageously handsome hunk actually wanted plain old Casey Richardson. How stupid.”
“It’s not about being stupid, Casey. It’s about being young and having the kind of heart that loves easily. There are plenty of shallow, selfish girls who wouldn’t have gotten so caught up. But you open your heart to people. Even cold blooded ones. Like Jeff, who thought he could just pass this blue collar girl around to his buddies when he was done with you.”
“Parker, don’t.” An old pang of hurt seared through Casey. She sat cross-legged in the dirt.
He touched her shoulder. “I’m sorry to remind you of it. And I don’t mean to sound prejudiced. I’ve met some wealthy folks who are true saints, but there are certain kinds of rich guys who shouldn’t be trusted. The kinds who think people below their class are just there to serve them. I’ve been handling Byrne’s lawns and gardens for five years, and I doubt he’d even know me if we met on the street.”
Casey remembered how Drew hadn’t even recognized Parker’s name when she’d mentioned it. She nodded, resolved. “I know what you’re saying. Don’t worry. I intend to keep this a business arrangement.”
“You already said you liked him.”
“I wouldn’t want to commit to this kind of project with someone I didn’t like.”
“Has he asked you out? Taken you to dinner in his chauffeured car?”
“Well, we did go to a place in Manhattan the other night. By helicopter.” When she saw her brother’s face she added, “I’m not going to fall in love with Drew Byrne. I just want my studio. And he can afford to help me a lot better than you can.”
Parker brushed dirt from his hands and stood. “If he quits on the business deal when he finds that out, I’ll be here for you.” He reached out a hand and pulled her up. “Come on. I’ve got some iced tea in the fridge. And didn’t you say you were worried one of your studio mirrors was coming off the wall? How about we go fix it? Don’t want it falling on some little dancer.”
“That would be great, bro. Then you can stay for dinner and polish off what’s left of last night’s sad attempt at chicken marsala.”
***
Drew spent most of Saturday catching up at his home office. And thinking about Casey. Cursing himself for being unable to pry his mind away from the memory of holding Casey as she cried in his arms. Her skin was ivory smooth, her eyes dewy, her mouth inviting. He liked that she was hesitant to have him foot the bill for her new studio. He was so used to just the opposite: women with tricks up their sleeves trying to sway him into paying for all kinds of things for them. Speaking of which, both Chloe and Georgia had texted him saying they wanted to get together. But Drew wasn’t about to make plans that would prevent him from seeing Casey tonight.
How dumb not to ask for a phone number other than the one he had for the North Cove Dance Academy. And she wasn’t listed anywhere. Considering how seriously Casey took interruptions to her classes, not to mention the fact that Josh—and Heather—would be at the studio today, Drew checked the academy schedule and waited until classes were good and over before calling.
Obviously he waited too long. After getting her voice mail three times he finally left his number and said, “Need to talk to you about something. Give me a call when you’re free. About the realtor, I mean. Uh, it’s Drew. Drew Byrne.”
What is wrong with me? I sound li
ke an adolescent who’s never called a girl before. But then he’d never had a female get to him the way Casey had.
By six o’clock he couldn’t stand it any more. She hadn’t called him back. That kind of thing didn’t happen to Drew Byrne. Except it just did. And he wanted to know why.
He was about to tell his driver to take him to North Cove, but changed his mind. Not about going there. But about showing up in a limo. Most women liked that sort of thing, but he could tell it made Casey uncomfortable. He freshened up, hopped in his Porsche and made it to the ferry and across to the North Fork in record time.
Rehearsing his lines, Drew slowed as he neared the dance studio and parked along the curb. He took a quick peek up the driveway to the back lot and got a glimpse of the Honda Civic that had been parked there the night of Trevor’s party. Drew had been too preoccupied with kissing Casey that night to notice if there was a back door buzzer. He rang the front.
A curtain moved on the second floor. Casey’s face appeared at the window. He was about to wave, but her eyes went wide and the curtain dropped.
Drew waited. The door opened, and Casey stood there looking sexy as hell in denim shorts, her hair falling out of a topknot. But the warm smile he expected wasn’t there. Instead she seemed nervous. Which ticked him off slightly. And worried him. Wasn’t he still the hero saving her studio? Had she changed her mind?
“Um, hi, Drew.”
He waited for her to invite him in, but she said nothing more. So he said, “Didn’t you get my message?” Geez. He swore to himself he wouldn’t mention it. And now he not only mentioned it, but also sounded like a whining wuss.
“Yes, I got it. But you didn’t say to call you back and I—”
“Yes, I did. This morning my realtor—”
“You called today? I’m sorry. I’ve been out and haven’t checked my studio phone since I got back. I should give you my mobile number.”
The Ultimate Romance Box (6 Bestselling Romance Novels) Page 100