The Ramseys Boxed Set

by Altonya Washington

  ~~~

  Tykira was laughing and slapped her dance partner’s shoulder.

  Yohan Ramsey; the groom’s cousin, feigned surprise, “Ow,” he playfully uttered.

  “Ow is right if Mel walks in here and sees us. Stop holding me so tight. I don’t want her upset with me,” Ty teased, referring to Yohan’s wife.

  Like someone had pulled a plug, the happiness on Yohan’s dark face drained. His eyes pooled with a sadness not to be ignored.

  “Han? What is it?” Ty whispered, concerned upon noticing his reaction.

  “It’s okay,” Yohan assured her in his deep voice. “Melina and I are separated. Hmph,” he gestured and shook his head as though he were in a state of disbelief. “It’s been six years. We should be divorced.”

  Ty closed her eyes as recollection dawned. Her mother had informed her of the couple’s troubles and subsequent separation long ago. “You wanna talk about it?” she searched his eyes with hers.

  Yohan’s easy expression returned. “Some thing’s are best left alone. Besides, I think my cousin wants to cut in.”

  Ty blinked and turned to find Quay standing right behind her.

  “Not quite, Han,” Quay curved his hand around Ty’s upper arm and lead her from the ballroom.

  Ty swallowed, trying to remain unfazed by the feel of his fingers snug around the crisp material of the tailored crepe cutaway jacket.

  “What are you doing here?” Quay muttered as they walked.

  “It’s your brother’s wedding day,” she reminded him. “Mama threatened to stop visiting me all together if I didn’t show up.”

  At last they were on the balcony. Quay leaned against the doorjamb of one of the French doors and watched her. “Q’s wedding? That’s the only reason?” He looked completely unconvinced as he settled his hands into the pockets of his black tuxedo trousers.

  Tykira’s temper flashed and she opened her mouth to retaliate. The sound of approaching guests stifled her remark.

  Figuring they would be less bothered if they hid in a crowd, Quay took her arm again and led Ty to the dancefloor. He pulled her into a snug, arousing embrace. Ty tried not to get lost in how fantastic she felt in his arms and fought to recall how much she despised him.

  “How long do you plan to stay?” He asked, effectively casting a sour element to the dance.

  Ty rolled her eyes. Silently, she warned her hands to remain firmly planted against his chest and not to venture upwards to choke his neck. “I’ll be here long enough to visit my mother and your family.”

  “But not me?” he probed, tugging his bottom lip between his perfect teeth.

  “Why you?”

  “Tyke…” he almost purred.

  When his right dimple flashed, Ty realized that he was taunting her. “You still enjoy hurting me, don’t you?” she hated the way her voice wavered on the question.

  Something flickered in Quay’s dark eyes, but he masked it before it grew too telling. “Hurting you isn’t what I had in mind...unless you’re into that sort of thing now.”

  In a flash, Ty jerked out of his arms and laid a cracking slap to the side of his face. Infuriating her more, Quay only grinned while brushing his knuckles across his jaw.

  Ty shoved his chest. “You’re still the same conceited jackass you’ve always been,” she sounded as though the discovery really hadn’t surprised her. Pressing a hand against her pearl choker, then brushing her fingers across the single button that secured her chic double breasted jacket, she turned and made a regal exit from the dance floor.

  The room was alive with laughter over the scene and Quay heard someone remark that he and Ty were like fire and gasoline- a volatile combination. Amidst all the amusement however, Quay’s eyes were filled with the darkness of regret.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Two Years Later…

  The penthouse office of Ramsey Group was alive with conversation and cheer. The executive members of the real estate conglomerate had gathered to discuss final matters concerning one of their largest projects to date. Holtz Enterprises of Vancouver, Canada had commissioned the group to construct a state of the art yet old world style ski resort. The organization had just purchased property in the mountainous regions just outside Banff, in the neighboring province of Alberta. They wanted a mammoth sized, impressive, unequaled, castle-like resort to sit high atop one of those mountains. The organization wanted no expense spared- nothing but the best. Ramsey Group was the perfect choice. It was well equipped to oversee all aspects of the project including contracting and construction. The development division began working diligently two years prior and now the project was nearing completion. Another six to eight months would produce a destination like no other.

  While the actual completion of the resort was going smoothly, however, there was one aspect that still needed to be addressed. Transportation. Holtz wanted nonstop service to shuttle passengers from Calgary to the resort by train. The rail would travel up the foreboding mountainside to its peak. Ramsey didn’t build trains so the question before them then was who could they entrust with such a gargantuan task?

  Quest, who was assigned with finding the rail design company for the project, believed he’d found his choice.

  “I’m leaning towards a design firm out of Colorado,” he said, standing at the head of the long rectangular conference table, “they’re very well known in the rail community in spite of the fact that they’ve only been incorporated for five years. I want you guys to look over their portfolio,” he passed a stack of packets around the table, “I’d like your decisions by Wednesday’s meeting.”

  Everyone at the table nodded their agreement. Some were already tearing into the packets and reviewing the enclosed material.

  “If there’re no other questions?” Quest prompted, his sleek brows rising as he paused for reactions. “In that case, meeting adjourned,” he said when no one spoke up. “Quay? Wait up, man.” He called before his brother headed out with the rest of the group.

  Quay shook hands with Ross Anderson, one of Ramsey’s chief architects. They made plans for drinks later that week. Ross left; closing the meeting room door behind him.

  “What’s up, Q?”

  Quest watched his twin perch on the corner of the long table. Then, bowing his head, he cleared his throat softly. “I’m leaning towards Tyke Designs to build the rail,” he announced.

  “Tykira?” Quay breathed, his black eyes narrowing as he spoke. Sure he was well aware that she was in the business. Aside from Quest and perhaps Mick, no one knew how closely he’d kept tabs on the woman since seeing her two years prior at his brother’s wedding. “Why?” he asked, watching Quest shrug.

  “Her company is impressive as hell, innovative and fresh,” Quest took his place on the opposite corner of the table. “They’re a highly sought after group and I don’t think we’d be disappointed.”

  “Cut it. You know that’s not what I meant.”

  “Well that’s what I meant,” Quest’s gray stare sharpened as he stared down his mirror image.

  Quay uttered a quick, humorless chuckle. “You, better than anyone, know what the situation is here. Why would you suggest this?” he whispered.

  “Quay, no one’s seen or heard from Wake Robinson in almost three years.”

  “Is that supposed to reassure me?” Quay threw back with cocky sarcasm. “Because it doesn’t.”

  “Get over it,” Quest shook his head and reached for the charcoal brown suitcoat on the chair behind him. “Once I hear from the rest of the team on Wednesday, I’ll be putting in a call to Ty.”

  “And you’re so sure they’ll go for this?”

  “I’m positive.”

  Quay gnawed the inside of his jaw, his dark eyes following his brother’s every move. “And you think the family is going to support this?”

  Quest’s knowing smile triggered his left dimple. “They all love Tykira, you know that.”

  Quay waved his hand. “It’s not about that,” he moved of
f the table.

  Quest studied the invisible pattern his index finger traced on the cherrywood finish. “Well maybe it’s about the fact that you’ve lived like a virtual hermit for the last two years now.”

  “Dammit Q does it matter that her life is at stake if that fool ever discovers how I feel about her?”

  “Ah Quay,” Quest sighed, not wanting to tell his brother that he was overreacting. They he felt his worries were unfounded. After all, it had been over fifteen years. For that reason he had no sympathy for his brother. He knew how deeply Quay felt for Tykira. “Have you ever thought of protecting the woman you love by keeping her close instead of shutting her out?”

  Quay’s hearty, contagious laughter filled the room. “Damn, you’re one to talk. Hell Q, I said almost those very words to you back when you were about to lose Mick for good.”

  Quest smiled. Stepping closer to his twin, he patted Quay’s shoulder. “Then I guess you already know what you have to do, right?” he challenged, and then left his brother alone to think.

  Quay sank into one of the hunter green arm chairs in the conference room living area and pondered this new upset. Tykira could not come there. While he had no doubts concerning his ability to say enough of the wrong things to keep her at arm’s length, he was full of doubts about his ability to go through with saying those things.

  He smiled, smoothing a hand across the front of the black banded collar shirt he wore. He thought about how incredible she looked two years ago at Quest’s wedding-especially when she angrily shoved her hands against his chest. He recalled her storming out of the ballroom. Men’s eyes followed her until she was out of view and then sometimes further still. Tykira was viewed by Quay and, he suspected, most every man she met as the epitome of Amazon. Tall, strong, exotic and erotically proportioned, she was a woman who could take care of herself while still being feminine to elicit a need to protect in any man she met.

  He thought her height advantage only added to the seductive, intimidating persona. Aside from her mahogany brown doe eyes and glossy mane, her voice was low- shockingly husky and every bit feminine. Quay closed his eyes then. He’d almost kissed her when he took her out on that balcony during the reception. When he pulled her into the dance, every part of him ached to drag her off somewhere and make love to her until she was too weak to leave the bed. She couldn’t accept Quest’s job offer, he thought. No one would buy that Quay had regarded her as a quick lay, a brief dalliance. Years ago, she’d been a girl who had been kind enough to take the hint and steer clear of him. That had made it impossible to stay away from her. Now, she was a full grown woman-boy was she, he thought. She would be coming there with a job to do. A job, that would include working with him and he couldn’t pretend he’d have strength enough to hide his feelings for her.

  Quay shook his head. He couldn’t allow her to stay there. She left Seattle once because of him. Surely, he could make her do it again?

  ***

  Denver, Colorado~

  “I mean it, lil lady, I’m gonna get you out here if it’s the last thing I do! You ain’t lived til you take a ride on a private train round the grandest ranch in Texas!”

  Tykira wiped a tear from the corner of her eye as she listened to the ravings of Henry Rose. The gregarious petroleum tycoon had commissioned her company to create his specialized rail earlier that year. It went without saying that he was more than pleased with the finished product.

  “Henry are you forgetting I’ve already taken a trip around your ranch?” Ty shook her head as she envisioned the man chugging around his massive El Paso estate/ranch/oilfield. The christening of the car had been a grand society event and now the rail was hard at work traveling from one end of Henry’s estate to the other.

  “Bah! That was for work. I’m talkin’ sheer relaxation, darlin’.”

  “Mmm hmm,” Ty smiled at the man’s charm. He’d made no secret how ‘interested’ he was throughout the time she spent in Texas designing the rail. “I promise to try and get away for a visit soon,” she said, chuckling when Henry uttered a ‘hot dang’ and boasted about how fine a time he’d show her.

  Used to such offers, Tykira had perfected the art of accepting them with a cool head. Her light, inviting responses never placed her in a position of being obligated to accept proposals from her adoring clients. While she had no intentions of providing them with anything but the finest in rail design, they each were left feeling that they were unique in her eyes.

  Once the call with Henry had ended, Ty closed her eyes, pulled a hand through her hair and swiveled her chair around to take in the view of downtown Denver. Simultaneously calmed and energized by the environment, she thought about her life there which began the year after she’d obtained her graduate degree in engineering from Northwestern. Denver had been her home ever since.

  Ty’s vibrant brown gaze clouded over momentarily as thoughts surfaced about the reception two years ago. Lord, why am I thinking of that?! Because, she admitted with a sigh, that involved Quaysar Ramsey and Quaysar Ramsey came to mind whenever she thought of her life in Denver. It was a great life, but it would never include the man she loved.

  Oooo! He’d been so arrogant at the reception. Apparently age had no effect on his tact or reason. Perhaps hitting him and storming out in the middle of the celebration had been a tad over the top, but Quay could incite such a reaction by doing little more than stepping on her toe.

  He’d actually thought she’d come there to see him. What nerve! She continued to rant. He was right, of course. She could finally admit that. Deep down, she knew he was right. No matter how much her mother had pressured her, she still could have said no.

  In spite of the cold way he’d treated her, she still wanted to melt for him. It chilled something inside her to discover after all those years, sex was still the only thing he wanted from her. Of course, she knew had he pressed a little more, she’d have quickly and happily indulged.

  ***

  “Choose quick, Michaela. ‘Cause my bags are waiting to be packed. I’ve had it with you.”

  “Sweetie, just bear with me a little longer. I know how much you need me, but I have to see this through.”

  Contessa Warren, Michaela’s friend and owner of Contessa House Publishing rolled her eyes and leaned back in the majestic black suede desk chair she occupied. Focusing on one of the three diamonds adorning her right hand, she prayed the sight would calm her as it usually did. Unfortunately, the phone conversations with her top author were growing increasingly annoying. Michaela had decided to continue her work following marriage and she and County had developed a long-distance working relationship between Seattle and Chicago. Of course County wanted Mick hard at work on her next smash family biography, but more importantly, she wanted her to stop wasting time on a dead end.

  For Michaela Sellars Ramsey, however, nothing stirred her juices like the subject she’d embarked upon more than two years ago. Although the Sera Black case had virtually come to a standstill, Mick had been like a bloodhound sniffing out every new lead (no matter how minute) on the case of the murdered teen.

  “I mean it Mick, I can pack and be there before the end of the day,” County warned before a quick laugh escaped her. “I don’t know what good that would do. Hell, if Quest can’t keep you busy enough to take your mind off this damn case, I don’t know what makes me think I can.”

  Mick’s brows rose as she tapped her fingers against the polished oak arm of the chair she lounged in. “Believe me Count, the man keeps me plenty busy,” she shared, thinking of her husband then.

  In truth, she’d had very little time to do any real work on the case since becoming Mrs. Quest Ramsey. True, most of their busy work resided in the bedroom, but Quest was determined to have his wife be part of every aspect of his life. He sought her opinion on business, family and every other interest he held. Michaela found that she was just as happy doing the same.

  “Listen, County, I promise I’ll start research on another family soon.” M
ick tried to assure her publisher in hopes of stifling the woman’s weary sighs on the other end of the line.

  “Mmm hmm,” came the doubtful response.

  “County please. Look, I even have my own office space here at home. I’ve got everything I need to thoroughly research anything and anyone I want,” Mick boasted. “Courtesy of my husband,” she added adoringly.

  “Hmph,” County was unimpressed. “Your hubby’s just full of great ideas.”

  “I haven’t used this office just to investigate the case, you know?”

  “The hell you haven’t, Mick. I’m not a fool. You’ve done an incredible job on this case. Wake Robinson hasn’t reared his head in a long time, but still you’ve given Johnelle Black a peace she’s never known. Sera’s mother finally has someone she can point a finger at. That’s more of a solid lead than she’s ever had before.”

  But what if Wake Robinson is only a part of the story? Mick inquired softly. She had no idea why she felt that way, but the reporter in her had that nagging doubt which rarely led her astray.

  “I promise I’ll let it go soon,” Mick said at last, trying once more to reassure her best friend.

  County swung her legs from her desk and stood. “Because I’m damn tired of debating with you and damn sexually frustrated, I’m going to accept your promise.”

  “Good,” Mick said in a laughing tone as she ruffled her black curls. “Go get a massage or something and try to relax,” she suggested.

  “Hmph, that would depend on the kind of massage.”

  “Goodbye County,” Mick retorted, shaking her head over the suggestive reply. Setting aside the white cordless, she returned to her notes. She’d been in the midst of re-reading her interview with Johnelle Black when she scanned something she’d overlooked before. A moment later, she was snatching up the cordless phone and dialing furiously.