Secrets & Chance (The Sterlings Book 1)

by Lynn Hastings

  “Anyway, I accept your apology,” she said. “Do you have any idea what’s behind all the secrecy?”

  He took a deep breath. “No.”

  There was a knock on the door, and the server announced himself.

  “Come in,” Rosalie said.

  Thank goodness for the interruption. What in the world was happening to him? He was a better conversationalist than that.

  “For you, sir,” the server said, handing him a quarter-filled glass of red wine.

  “Call me Chance, and, um”—he extended a hand toward the server—“we’ve never met.”

  “I’m Pedro,” the man said, shaking Chance’s hand.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  Pedro nodded as they let go of each other’s hands.

  “If you need anything else, call the kitchen.”

  “Good night, Pedro, and thanks for bringing the second glass,” Rosalie said.

  “You’re welcome, ma’am.”

  “Call me Rosalie,” she said.

  The server smiled before bowing out into the hallway and closing the door behind him.

  Rosalie looked at Chance with a sexy lopsided smile. “A Sterling man who doesn’t treat the staff like slaves.”

  He dropped his face to simper and raised his head just in time to lock eyes with Rosalie. Whatever was happening between them was unexpected, and for Chance, it was scary as hell.

  Rosalie finally broke eye contact with a sigh. “Anyway, getting back to Edna. At first, I thought she was planning on dying or something.”

  Chance adjusted in his seat. His erection wasn’t subsiding fast enough, so he focused on the flames before them. “I did too.”

  “I want to show you something. Can I?”

  He watched her as she stood abruptly and walked up the steps to the sleeping area. As soon as she opened her purse, which was sitting on the desk near the window, Chance turned away from her alluring figure to study the flames again.

  He had to get a grip. Rosalie hadn’t invited him in for sex. She wanted to talk. It had become clear to him during dinner that she wasn’t part of the vulture pack. To get relaxed, he circled his shoulders and took a swig of wine.

  Soon, she had once again sat in the chair on the other side of the cocktail table. “It’s a letter Edna sent me.”

  He turned away from the flames. She was handing him the letter. He took it, unfolded it, and began reading. None of what was written eradicated his suspicion of Rosalie. He was beginning to feel things for her but not at the expense of forsaking reason. One thing he had learned over the years was that every human being had a motive. And the surefire way to not be surprised when he discovered that a person was in it for his own interest was for him to assume right off the bat that everyone was actually in it for their own interests. Then he read the last sentence. We have much to discuss before my final hours. His grandmother was definitely up to something.

  When he looked up, Rosalie was watching him intently.

  Chance realized he was frowning and straightened his face. “I see.” He handed the letter back to her.

  She shrugged her forehead. “The last line?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I’ll try to get to the bottom of it all tomorrow morning.”

  It remained awkwardly silent between the two of them. Chance tried to think of something to say. Sure, he was tired after his run that evening, and the wine he’d had with dinner, along with the few sips in front of Rosalie’s fire, made him extra sleepy, but he wasn’t ready to leave her presence.

  He cleared his throat. “You’re a lawyer, hey?”

  “Yep.”

  “Where did you go to law school?”

  “UCLA.”

  He raised his eyebrows. It was hard to believe one of Pete’s exes was smart enough to get into that school.

  She grinned at him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You have the most expressive face. I would pay a hundred bucks for your thoughts.”

  He would’ve told her what he was thinking if he wasn’t so sure his thoughts were offensive. He wondered how a woman, who was as beautiful and smart as she was, could have ever in her lifetime been involved with Pete. He found it mind-boggling.

  She continued to look at him as though she was amused by his very essence. His forehead and armpits were sweating profusely. If he were smart, he would escape before his body betrayed him once again and embarrassed him in every imaginable way.

  “Can I guess?” she asked.

  “Guess?”

  “What you were thinking?”

  He blinked because his head was dizzy. What in the hell was wrong with him? Chance stood but steadied himself enough to set the glass of wine on the cocktail table. “Sorry, I have to go.”

  Rosalie stood. “Okay.” She looked puzzled.

  He nodded spastically and rushed out of the room so fast that it felt as if he was walking on air. As soon as he entered his quarters, he stopped in front of the door. It was too late to go back and make a smoother exit. Chance wanted to kick himself for letting his nerves get the best of him. Only sleep could wipe away his embarrassment. His eyes gravitated toward the bed. He narrowed them for focus. An envelope was placed on top of the pillow with his name written across the front. He went over and opened it.

  Meet me in the lemon grove when you run in the morning. I must show you something.

  The letter wasn’t signed.

  SIX

  ROSALIE STETSON

  Rosalie pressed her ear against the door and listened while Chance’s door opened and closed. She was still confused by what had just happened. Maybe he didn’t want to be friends. She was on her best behavior, figuring they would work better as allies after what had happened at dinner.

  It was tough to download and unravel the craziness that had taken place at the table. She was pretty sure Chance wasn’t interested in Claire, who was clearly on the hunt for him. Rosalie suspected that Chance might not be into women. Claire had had it all on display—cleavage, curves, and a dress so short that she might as well have shown up naked. As far as Rosalie saw, Chance hadn’t admired any of Claire’s assets, not once. She hadn’t caught him admiring her assets, either, and she had looked really good in her dress, which had been a tad too itchy.

  The day had been long. Regardless of not being able to shake Chance Sterling from her thoughts, Rosalie turned off the electric fireplace, stripped out of the night’s outfit, washed off her makeup, and went straight to bed. As she nestled between the winter linens and closed her eyes, she couldn’t forget that Chance was sleeping not so far away from her.

  ROSALIE SLOWLY OPENED HER EYES. She had been sleeping hard and for a long time. Someone was knocking lightly on the door.

  She blinked the crud out of her eyes, and as her mind began to wake up, she remembered last night and sitting down with Chance before the fire. Rosalie gasped and pressed her hand over her heart. What if the person at the door was Chance?

  “Yes?” she called.

  “Good morning, ma’am, would you like breakfast?”

  Rosalie recognized the voice. She hopped out of bed, grabbed her robe off the chair, and shuffled over to open the door. “Good morning, Teresa.”

  “Good morning, ma’am.”

  “Listen, Teresa, would you mind calling me Rosalie? Please.” She really disliked all the formality, especially in a house in which she felt so at home.

  “It will be no problem, Rosalie. For breakfast, we have eggs Benedict, country potatoes, and fruit salad.”

  “Thanks, I’ll be downstairs shortly.” It made her happy when she realized that Chance would more than likely be joining her at the table.

  “No, ma’am, I mean Rosalie. Breakfast will be in room this morning.”

  Rosalie leaned away from Teresa. “Is Edna having breakfast in her room this morning?”

  “She is not home.”

  “What?”

  “She is gone.”

  “Where did she go?”

&n
bsp; Teresa pressed her lips together then released them. “I don’t know.”

  Rosalie watched Teresa with an unfocused gaze. She had become sort of an expert at detecting untruths. In her job, she had learned to let body language and facial expressions clue her in to whether clients or witnesses were lying or telling the truth. She could tell that Teresa knew where Edna had gone, but it wasn’t her place to tell. The staff had always been loyal to Edna, so Rosalie was positive she would get no answers from them.

  “Okay then.” Rosalie looked across the hallway. “Then I’ll wait for breakfast.”

  It would’ve been nice to sit down for another meal with Chance, but last night had ended so oddly that she didn’t feel comfortable asking him to join her. Plus, it was time to power on her cell phone yet again to check voice mail and text messages and determine if she wanted to return any of them.

  It was slightly chilly in the room, so Rosalie kindled the fireplace and sat in a chair before the flourishing flames. She pressed the button to awaken her phone. The device beeped and vibrated in her hand. She had forty-nine voice mails, seventy-two missed calls, and thirty-three text messages.

  The first text was from her boss, telling her that the DA wanted to meet with her immediately. The next ten or eleven were from Dennis, asking where she was. He demanded that she return his calls or else. Linda Ashton, a fellow public defender and fairly good friend, also left her a text message.

  Dennis is on a warpath. What happened with the superintendent Perry Clark’s case?

  Rosalie didn’t believe Perry Clark was all that innocent of the charges, which were thirteen counts of misuse and theft of funds, but investigators had no right to falsify evidence for every single charge. Perry was hard to catch because he was good at burying the bodies. Of course she knew where to find the money, but not because Perry had confessed. Perry Clark had a lot in common with the Sterling men. He needed to be in charge and required loyalty in every aspect of his life. Followers rarely trailed without the distribution of fish and loaves. All Nick Lyons had to do was get off his lazy buttocks and track the goodies.

  Rosalie replied to Dennis’s message.

  I’m away on a family matter. I will call you when I’m available.

  She pressed Send, and just before she powered off the phone, it rang. At first, she thought it was Dennis, but he never responded to any message that fast, even the important ones. She rolled her eyes when she saw the name on the screen. It was Vera, her mother.

  The phone rang three more times before she decided to answer.

  “Hello,” she said briskly.

  “Hello, where are you?” Her mom’s tone was just as devoid of warmth as her own.

  Every muscle in Rosalie’s body tightened. “I’m visiting Edna.”

  “Edna Sterling?”

  “Yes.”

  “What for?”

  “Her birthday party.”

  Her mom went silent.

  There was a knock on the door. “Breakfast,” a man called.

  “Come in!” Rosalie replied.

  Vera still hadn’t said a word.

  “Mom, are you still there?”

  “You didn’t come to my birthday celebration or your aunt Candace’s.”

  Rosalie rolled her eyes as she stood so that the server could set up breakfast on the cocktail table.

  “Okay,” she said as she walked over to the French doors and opened the curtain to gaze out over the lemon trees. An interesting sight caught her attention.

  “Okay? Is that really all you have to say?”

  Rosalie watched Chance and a small woman wearing a pair of jeans and a gray hoodie as they engaged in a conversation. The woman’s head was covered, and she was facing away from Rosalie. Chance stood with his legs spread and arms folded, which meant he wanted to convey authority.

  “I know they have more money than God, but we’re your flesh and blood.”

  Rosalie shook her head. “Mom, what do you want to hear from me? Could you hurry up and tell me so I don’t have to guess?”

  Chance moved to stand next to the woman. He was remarkably taller than she was, so Rosalie could tell the woman was showing him something on a handheld device, perhaps a cell phone.

  “Just forget it,” Vera said.

  Chance was still viewing whatever the woman was showing him.

  “Okay. Did you call for any specific reason?” Vera sure wasn’t the type that would call to say I love you.

  “Your job called, concerned about your whereabouts. I’ve called you several times and left messages. Did you get them?”

  “Sorry, I just checked my phone.” Rosalie was halfway distracted by Chance hugging the woman. Then she watched the woman walk away with a timid posture.

  “You’re going to lose your job if you don’t call them back, and then what?”

  Rosalie wasn’t going to humor her mother, not today. Breakfast had arrived, and she was starving. “Mom, I have to go.”

  Vera continued. “Unless you’re making up with your ex-husband. That wouldn’t be so bad.”

  Rosalie shook her hands in frustration. “But you just accused me of loving the Sterlings more because they had more money than God, who, by the way, has no money at all. Currency is a human concept.”

  “But he’ll be your husband again, and that’s the difference.”

  Rosalie shook her head as if she’d just become dazed by confusion. “Huh? What difference are you talking about?”

  “It wouldn’t look so bad that you’re there if you were making up with Peter.”

  “He’s married, Mom.”

  “But he loves you more.”

  Rosalie was ready to end the call right there and without saying goodbye. If it weren’t for her mother, she would’ve never married Peter in the first place. Vera had a love-hate relationship with the Sterlings, which was born out of envy. The few times Peter had visited their house when he and Rosalie were in high school, Vera would flirt shamelessly with him. She would start by telling him what a great athlete he was and say that she could tell he was destined for greatness. It was creepy, and he had tried to avoid her mother as much as possible because of it.

  However, it wasn’t as if Rosalie and Peter had spent the majority of their time at his house, either. His parents had never approved of Rosalie. As a young couple, she and Peter would mostly hang out at the Dairy Queen after school, or catch a movie, or go for long drives in his truck. Deep down, Rosalie had ignored the truth. They’d made out a lot and had a lot of teenage sex, however mostly protected. Peter had been so afraid of getting her pregnant, and the thought of being inseminated by him had actually scared her more. Whenever they would have conversations, he would mostly talk about himself. He hadn’t been curious about her at all, which was why it later shocked him that she was first accepted at UCLA as an undergraduate transfer student and then to the school of law. She’d graduated both programs summa cum laude. Peter’s ability to love anyone, even himself, was nonexistent.

  It felt distressing to tell her mother for the hundredth time that she was never getting back with Peter Sterling, so she decided not to.

  “Mom, I have a day. Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye,” Vera said and ended the call.

  Rosalie fell back on the bed and let the phone roll out of her hand. It began to ring. She looked over at it, thinking it was Dennis, but then she saw her mother’s name on the screen.

  She watched it ring three more times before answering. “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Shocked, she sat up straight. “You are?”

  “I am.”

  “Well, okay. Thanks.” She waited for the other shoe to drop.

  “Enjoy the birthday party.”

  Rosalie narrowed an eye suspiciously. “Okay.”

  “Love you. Goodbye.”

  Rosalie paused, waiting for her mother to hang up before she could respond.

  “Mom?” she asked timidly.

  “Yes?”

 
Her eyes widened. “Love you too. Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye.”

  This time, Rosalie ended the call.

  “Well, that was strange,” she whispered as her gaze gravitated toward the eggs Benedict and pot of coffee. She avoided deconstructing the entire conversation she’d just had with her mom. After all, she did have a day.

  Her phone rang again, and this time, it was Dennis. Anxiety gripped her. So she chose not to ignore what her body was telling her and powered down her device. Perhaps the time had come to look for another job. She didn’t have to worry about getting a bad reference from Dennis because her record spoke for itself. Everyone knew that public defenders had to play politics and ego-preserving.

  Rosalie took a series of deep breaths until she was able to not think about work. She finished breakfast and turned on the television, allowing a morning show to play as she showered and prepared herself for the meeting with Frederick Holland. Once again, she was self-conscious about what to wear. She was meeting with another lawyer, but she hadn’t brought any business attire.

  She would never admit it out loud or more than once, but she wanted to appear attractive. What if Claire showed up today? She would put on her sexiest best for Chance Sterling. Rosalie didn’t want to be as obvious as Claire would be, so she split the difference and put on a pair of black skinny pants, her white V-necked cable-knit sweater that didn’t itch, and a pair of low-heel black leather booties. It had rained last night, and it was always a little nippy outside of the bedrooms at Sterling Manor when it rained, so she put on her black leather jacket.

  Rosalie took one last look in the mirror then headed out to meet Frederick Holland in the sitting room. To her surprise, she and Chance walked out of their bedrooms at the same time.

  Her hand flew to her chest. “Oh.”

  He closed his door. “Meeting time.”

  “Yes, it is.” Why did it feel so awkward between them? If she had known him better, she would’ve asked about the woman he’d met in the lemon grove. That would’ve broken the ice between them.

  At the moment, they were just standing there, looking at each other.