He wondered if Hanna’s reactions now were due to grief, as well. Cancer and suicide weren’t the same but the end result—standing on the sidelines while a loved one died—led to the same grief-soaked place.
“If you think I’m difficult to deal with now, you should have seen how I acted in private back then.” She would have hated him. No question.
“You’re not, you know.”
She completed one of those conversational left turns that put him a few steps behind. “Not what?”
“You’re not that difficult.” It looked as if she were trying to hide a smile but the amusement in her voice gave her away.
The rest of the weight pressing down on him vanished. They hadn’t settled much but he felt as if they’d reached some sort of common ground. That his worries about her viewing him as a useless playboy jerk might not be true.
He decided to test that theory. “Ever since we saw each other again you’ve been—”
“Dealing with your family is difficult.”
Carter continued to rub his palm even though the slicing pain was long gone. “I’m not my father, Hanna.”
“I know.”
He blew out a rough breath. “That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
“He wouldn’t spend hours or days or whatever you did, tracking down evidence to get me to trust him.” She picked up the top piece of paper, then put it down again. “That’s something.”
Probably too much. Vast overkill and a statement on his difficulties with dealing with people on more than a superficial level. But he wanted deeper with her. He had no idea why, but he did. “It sounds like you might actually like me.”
She laughed as she held up a hand. “Let’s not get carried away.”
In that moment she sounded so free. The light tone sent a shot of need spiraling through him. But wanting her when there was still so much unsaid between them struck him as dangerous. “Is there anything I can do to help with your quest?”
“That’s an interesting word.”
If he knew what she was looking for or what she wanted to prove or avoid he would have chosen his words more carefully. As it was he only knew something was up. He was not the guy people went to for help, but maybe he could give her this before they both moved on, because that was inevitable. “If you find something negative about my father, something you need help with, let me know. We’ll take care of it.”
“What about family loyalty?”
He couldn’t blame her for asking. “That only extends to my brothers, Jackson and a few others.”
“Really?”
When she’d asked a question like that a few days ago, even yesterday, it came with a slap of disbelief. He’d seen it in her eyes and heard it in her voice. But this time it sounded like she wanted confirmation. That he could do it. “Do you know how Derrick ended up at the head of the company?”
She shrugged. “I figured it was a birthright thing.”
He was pretty sure that was a knock on the size of his bank account, but he let it go because they were finally talking. He rarely had a chance to reason through these things with anyone. Letting outsiders into his family dynamic wasn’t an option when you were a part of a family that landed in the news too often.
“He saved the company from my father’s mismanagement and questionable deals. Dad doesn’t really have the ability to distinguish right from wrong.” Which Carter was pretty sure qualified as the biggest understatement he’d ever uttered. “I can give you the details if you want them. Suffice to say, Derrick was ready to go public and burn it all down. Spence and I supported him.”
“But you would have lost everything.”
He got the sense that the state of her bank account didn’t matter much to her except to know she could take care of herself. But her obsession with his money, in terms of believing that it somehow defined him, was a huge frustration for him.
“Not everything, but a lot. But stuff doesn’t matter all that much in the face of right and wrong.”
She shot him an are-you-serious glance. “You do know you’re a Jameson, right?”
“I’m reminded quite often.” By the gossip press. By people at the office. By the estate and now by her.
“Including by me.”
At least she didn’t deny it. He decided to consider that progress.
“So far, yes. I’m hoping to change that. When you look at me I’d like for you to see me and not my father.” He didn’t mean to say the words but he’d never been more serious in his life.
“Lunch would help.”
The turn of topic had his brain misfiring for a second. Then he focused on the lilt in her voice and the half smile she’d worn throughout most of their conversation. Something had happened to change her mood. His had changed, as well. The question was if they could sustain it or if they’d slip back into arguing mode.
“Why, Ms. Wilde. Are you using me for my access to food?”
“I bet there’s a really big kitchen in this house.” She stood up and glanced at him with one eyebrow raised, as if in challenge.
“Wanna see my pots and pans?”
She shook her head. “That’s a terrible line.”
“I have others.” This time when he turned on the charm he intended to show her who he really was. He was not that shallow guy and he was tired of having people think he was. “Come downstairs with me and I’ll let you hear some.”
He got up and came around the side of the desk until he stood in front of her. “Your lines keep getting better.”
He guided her toward the door, ignoring the buzz that moved through him when he put his hand on her lower back. “You are not going to believe how charming I am.”
“Impress me.”
He intended to do just that.
Eight
For the next several days Carter mostly left her alone, except at mealtimes. He’d show up with food or text her and joke about luring her to the main house with roasted chicken or something equally delicious.
Lynette prepared most of the food. Hanna had met her when she had ventured over to the house and accidentally met Jackson, as well. Lynette was a woman in her sixties with a touch of a German accent. She sang Carter’s praises and grew quiet at the mention of his father. Hanna loved her priorities.
Jackson provided a different challenge. He had been charming and clearly close to Carter, despite the sarcastic comments. But meeting him made her uncomfortable, thanks to her father’s journal. Most of the entries centered on her father’s workdays and the television programs he liked and didn’t like. But every now and then there would be a more personal entry. Sometimes about Eldrick’s secrets. The man’s sins worried her father. She didn’t know if the cryptic “Jack” references in the journal were actually about Jackson, but she felt compelled to find out...somehow.
But not now. No, tonight she intended to concentrate on Carter. He’d brought pot roast to her cottage on this cool night. It was steaming and savory and she might need to run around the estate’s many acres to work off enough to be able to sleep.
She dumped the dirty dishes on the counter next to the sink and leaned against it to watch him. “I’m starting to think you really do plan on wooing me with food.”
Carter shot her a sexy smile as he continued to wash the serving plate. “Of course not...unless it’s working.”
“My pants no longer fit.”
He chuckled as he dried the dish, then his hands and turned to face her. “Is that code for something?”
“Yeah, the fact I can’t get the zipper up.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “Sexy.”
Exactly, and that was a bit of a problem for her. Him cleaning. Him bringing her food. Him not assuming he could barge in and always asking permission first. Now that was sexy. The charm combined with that face and those sl
eek muscles were a sucker punch to her control. The more time she spent with him, the more her anger fizzled out. And she wasn’t sure she was ready to let it go. Not after she’d been so wrapped up and furious for months.
During the day she’d think about him. Memories of that sly smile and deep voice would pop into her head and she’d forget why she disliked him. Those old feelings from childhood of being dazzled by him and blinded to his faults would rise up. She had to work to remember he was the same man who hurt her sister...though that was no longer as clear as it once had been.
Even she couldn’t deny that her sister had embellished her time with Carter. She’d turned the reality of three or so days into what sounded like long-term dating. Now Hanna wasn’t sure what she thought or what any of it meant, so she held on to what she did know—Carter’s father had tried to blackmail her to stay away from Carter. He wasn’t his father, but it wasn’t that easy to separate the two.
Carter hung the now damp towel on the handle to the stove. “Did you want wine or anything?”
“I got the impression you didn’t drink anymore, or maybe you still do and I don’t—”
“Hanna?” With a palm resting on the counter, he leaned in until his mouth hovered just above hers. “You’re on the verge of babbling.”
“I’m trying not to be a jerk.” For some reason the comment came out as a breathy whisper.
“If that happens, I’ll let you know.” His gaze wandered over her face like a gentle caress. It landed on her mouth and stayed there for a few seconds until he blinked and stepped back again. “But no, I’m not drinking. I figured out I value control too much. Also, it’s too easy for me to lean on it.”
“That’s honest.” She couldn’t imagine the younger version of Carter ever admitting to having a problem. All those magazine articles and gossip columns about the brothers and what a catch the bachelors were never mentioned anything except their strengths.
There had been references to their athletic promise and college years, but now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember ever reading a quote by any of the brothers themselves in all those posts. It was all photographs of them dating this woman or that one. About charity events and movie premieres. Nothing about who they really were, nothing like the real-life glimpse she’d been getting since she’d agreed to come to Virginia with Carter.
“I really don’t want to test my ability to form an addiction.” Carter moved around the kitchen, stacking and restacking dishes and cleaning the counters for a second time.
She knew nervous energy when it smacked into her, and that was exactly what was happening right now. “Did someone help you with that?”
His head shot up. “Like who?”
“A therapist? I think most people can’t see they have a problem without assistance.”
“If it had gotten worse, I’d like to think I would have gone to meetings or gotten help.” He rehung the kitchen towel on the bar. “I know who I am without alcohol. I sort of fear who I am with it.”
He created the opening, so she walked right through. “So tell me who you are, Carter Jameson.”
She leaned back against the counter and sized him up. The conclusion was clear: a pretty outward package and a seemingly decent internal one. But she wanted to be sure.
“Irresistible, right?” he asked.
She didn’t bother to lie. “A little.”
That got his attention because he stopped fidgeting. “Oh, really?”
“You can’t be immune to the impact of your charm.” And he had to own a mirror. She refused to believe beautiful people couldn’t tell they looked different from most people.
She could look in the mirror and see someone imperfect but pretty. She wore a solid size twelve, not tiny like her sister. Not someone who could walk around without a bra and be comfortable. A woman locked in a constant battle to keep a sliver of space between her upper thighs for comfort’s sake.
Society might judge her as chubby but she saw a healthy person in the mirror. She loved food, which she balanced with walking and other exercise. Her whole life was about stability, about trying to maintain a middle ground. But Carter kept her totally off balance. The way his appreciative gaze swept over her made her feel beautiful, stunning and powerful.
“You know what I mean.” She continued because he was staring at her right now with this silly, tempting grin. “You go through life looking like that, with money and resources and that voice. I’m betting women line up to meet you.”
He balanced his hands on the counter on either side of his hips, mimicking her stance while standing across from her. “What if I told you a secret?”
Her heart rate kicked up. She could feel the blood race through her. “Do it.”
“The charm, the whole guy-who-can-run-a-party thing, is an act.”
Not what she expected. No, this was far more interesting than any tidbit of family or dating gossip. “You’re faking it?”
“Not with you. I mean, it’s not real out there.” He nodded toward the window and the dark night beyond. “That’s how I found my place in the family. Derrick is practical and grumpy, or he was until Ellie. Spencer is really smart and can always find the right angle to make something work. Me, I’m the one who entertains people. I put on an act so people can’t see that I lack my brothers’ talents. That, except for them, I don’t like being a Jameson very much.”
She searched her memories, all those informal football games the brothers played on the lawn and how they stopped to talk with her father, and she could see it. Carter kept things light. He beamed in like sunshine. To know that it was a facade, some act he created to survive in his family made her stomach churn. “I can’t figure out if that’s sweet or sad.”
He shrugged. “Maybe a bit of both. Don’t get me wrong. I know how lucky I am with the money part. Even after being cut off financially by my father, I had an account from my mom. Derrick insisted on paying me a salary. He still dumps money into it. I just ignore it because I’m fortunate enough to be able to. I don’t have to worry about food or housing because my name is on the trust that owns this house, again thanks to my mom.”
His body language said “no big deal” but something dark and clouded moved through his eyes. She noticed the dimming, the blink of pain, before he talked with that light tone.
“So, you turn on this charm offensive to get through events and—”
“Life.”
A peek behind the curtain. That’s what this felt like. A brief glimpse into the real Carter Jameson, though he made it sound like the real version was buried pretty deep. “You seem pretty genuine right now.”
“I am. With you. I can’t explain why, so don’t ask.” He pushed away from the counter and walked the few steps to stand in front of her. “Maybe it’s because when I first saw you again I thought we were both a little lost. I viewed you as a kindred spirit. Or I did, until you kept kicking me out and walking away.”
Yes. He got it. Behind the stability and the attempts to maintain equilibrium lurked a certain insecurity and a fear that running up against another Jameson would only make her life worse. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s good for me to have to work for it.” He didn’t touch her but he moved until he stood between her outstretched legs.
“You should keep working at it.” This close, her breath caught in her throat. She felt it hitch. Felt her pulse thump in her ears until it sounded like banging.
He nodded. “I plan to.”
Risking everything, forgetting the cons and the past, she lifted her hand and rested it on his chest. The heat from his skin seeped through his shirt into her palm. The touch reassured her, and when he covered her hand with his she felt grounded for the first time in a long time.
“The lost thing? I never thought of it that way, but it’s probably true. I’ve spent my life being the dutiful daughter, the s
upportive sister, the one everyone could count on. With my whole family being gone, I’m not clear on what my role is anymore.” She had to force every single word out, push them past this hard lump in her throat. She expected to get pummeled with a load of new guilt for having said what she actually felt. Instead, a weight she didn’t even know sat on her chest eased. Not completely, but a bit.
His fingers threaded through hers. “You could try living for you.”
“I wish it were that easy.”
What she really wished was that he’d kiss her. Just swoop in and take away the doubts and give her a few minutes without thinking.
As if he could hear her thoughts, he leaned in until his mouth hovered right over hers. “Yes?”
She nodded as she shifted to meet him. “Please.”
His mouth swept over hers, soft at first, almost searching. Then he lifted his head and stared down at her again. Whatever he saw there must have erased any concern, and it should have because she was all-in on the kissing. When his lips covered hers again there was nothing slow and gentle about it. His mouth captured hers in a scorching kiss. The world fell away. It was just her and him and the heat and the feel of his arms around her and his hands on her back.
He kissed her like he’d never see her again. The intensity of it shook her. Her skin felt warm as she pushed up on tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck. This was about wanting and abandon, and she had no intention of fighting it.
Her fingers slipped into his soft hair. She could taste him, smell the peppermint scent of his shampoo. Sensations bombarded her—the feel of his tongue, the press of his hard body against hers. His mouth and that tiny rumbling sound she heard at the back of his throat.
She’d dreamed about kissing him as a girl but her dreams hadn’t felt like this. This was the kiss of a man who wanted a woman. All hot and demanding, smooth and coaxing. It reeled her in.
She wanted more.
That reality hit her like a splash of icy water. It was too much, too soon while the trust between them still stood on shaky ground.
The Reluctant Heir Page 9