by Cat Schield
A sparkle near the window caught his eye. Eight crystal figurines sat on the windowsill, their faceted surfaces capturing sunlight and casting miniature rainbows on every nearby surface.
“Swarovski crystal,” Caroline said, emerging from the bathroom. She wore gray tweed slacks and a pink silk camisole. The matching tweed jacket lay beside the coat. She smiled when he made a spinning gesture with his finger and twirled for him. “Starting when I was ten, my mother gave me one each Christmas.”
Something about the way she looked at the figurines told him how important they were to her. But why only eight?
He pulled the engagement ring out of his pocket and crooked his finger at her. “Come here.”
When she drew within reach, he caught her left hand and slid the diamond ring onto the third finger. She gasped at the ring’s size and sparkle as he closed his fingers over hers. Without considering his actions, he turned her hand palm upward and placed a kiss at the base of her finger where the ring rested. Her hand gave a little jerk as his lips touched her skin. His pulse hitched.
He dipped his thumb into her palm. The urge to claim her in a more elemental manner tugged at him. “And so you’re officially my fiancée.”
“For the next two weeks.” She looked embarrassed the instant the words were out.
He echoed her words. “For the next two weeks.” He slid his fingers deep into the silken locks behind her ear. She stilled at his touch, a quieting of her muscles that spoke of tension. He soothed her with a murmur. “Relax. We’re supposed to be engaged. You can’t be skittish around me.”
She filled her lungs and lifted her chin to meet his gaze. Questions brimmed in the quiet depth of her misty green eyes. “Then touch me so I can get used to you.”
Now he froze.
Had any woman ever met him with such honesty and openness?
The small studio apartment grew even more confining. The bed’s undisturbed appearance mocked him. He knew the sheets would smell like her. He’d like for the sheets to smell like them both.
He counted twenty thumping heartbeats before he felt confident he could proceed slow enough to stop with a single kiss. He turned her toward him and caressed his knuckles up her arm to her shoulder. She had incredibly soft skin. Her fragrance drifted past his nostrils, reminding him of exotic tropical locales and warm sandy beaches. He feathered her cheek with his fingertips and her lashes fluttered down. The air in her lungs flowed out in an inaudible sigh that tickled his skin. Simon tucked his thumbs beneath her chin to lift her lips to an angle he could reach.
He filled his senses with her, watching color rise in her cheeks, listening to the catch in her breath that told him he disturbed her. She stood passive in his grasp, yet she’d captured him. He had only to taste her to be completely caught in her spell.
Something tightened in his chest, igniting a groan. He dipped his head and brushed his lips against the corner of her mouth, gliding along her lower lip where he paused to draw its tender plumpness into his mouth.
Although she had stood unmoving until now, suddenly she answered his call. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she tipped her head, offering him a better angle to fuse their mouths together. Her immediate surrender filled him with fierce satisfaction. Steps away, her neatly made bed called. Trailing his tongue along the sensitive flesh inside her lip, Simon ignored the temptation, satisfied to ply her with long, slow kisses and test the chemistry that bubbled between them.
He quickly discovered the price of satisfying his curiosity. Desire slammed into him, fast and unsettling. He stabbed his fingers into her hair and feasted on her mouth. Her body quivered like a tightly strung bow, anticipation riding every muscle.
Control was slipping from his grasp with every thud of his heart. Either he claimed what she offered, or set her free. Her lips clung to his as he drew away.
He gathered a breath, amazed at his shaky state. “I think that went well. We won’t have to avoid all the mistletoe my mother has hung around the house.”
She ducked her head and peeked at him through her lashes, a very pleased smile tugging at her luscious lips. “Any more kisses like that and we’ll set fire to it.”
He laughed, feeling gloriously full of life and power, and gestured to the bag from the jeweler. “Those are for you as well.”
“More? You’ve already given me enough.”
“Window dressing.” He shrugged off her wary expression as she eyed the jewelry boxes he lifted out and avoided thinking about the care that had gone into the selection of the last one. He started opening boxes, feeling her tense as each sparkling piece caught the light. “My family will have certain expectations.”
“These are too expensive. I can’t.”
Her resistance exasperated him. He thought she’d be pleased. What woman didn’t love jewelry?
“You have agreed to be my fiancée for the next two weeks. I would hope you would appreciate what this opportunity means for you.”
Her lips firmed in defiance and silver lightning flashed in her eyes, but she nodded. “Very well.” She reached out to touch the heart necklace. “But I’m not going to keep any of this. You’ve spent too much already.”
“Fine. But for the next two weeks you’ll wear it. Starting with this necklace.” Simon snapped the jewelry boxes closed, all but the one containing the diamond and emerald heart. Her calm dignity made him feel as if he’d wounded her in some way. He clenched his teeth in irritation. “I’ll take your bags out to the car.”
“Give me five minutes and I’ll be down.”
When she emerged from the apartment building, the diamond and emerald heart sparkled between the lapels of the tweed jacket. Gone was the exhausted, financially challenged law student he’d met two days earlier. In her place walked a beautiful, sophisticated woman who was just beginning to discover all the wonderful experiences life had in store for her.
“It appears as if we’re ready to go to Savannah,” he said, pleased he had been responsible for this transformation. Then, on the heels of satisfaction, came concern. “My mother is going to love you.”
All at once it hit him what he’d done. He’d found a girl his parents couldn’t help but approve of, dressed her up, and was about to take her home to meet his family. What if they did fall in love with her?
She gazed at him, her gray-green eyes opening wide. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It just might be.”
Chapter Four
As Simon’s BMW raced south along the freeway, Caroline pulled a small notebook out of her purse and opened to a clean page. With a click, she activated her pen. “What do I need to know about your family?”
His eyebrows rose. “This isn’t class, you know. There won’t be a test in the end.”
Caroline tapped the pen against the pad. Did the man take anything seriously?
“How long have we been dating? Where did you take me on our first date? What kind of music do I listen to? What won’t I eat?” She blasted him with the questions, then settled back to await his answers.
“We’ve been dating six months. I took you white-water rafting for our first date. After which you begged me to take you home and make passionate love to you all night long, but I refused because I’m not that sort of guy.”
She was not amused by his rakish grin or his attempt to lighten her mood. His words hit a little too close to the dream she’d had about him last night and the way she’d lost her head during that exploratory kiss this morning. If he hadn’t stopped… Her cheeks heated.
“I’m not sure that’s the sort of story you want to share with your mother.” Her tart tone didn’t dim his smile one bit. She heaved a sigh. “You may like to fly by the seat of your pants, but that’s not my style. And let me remind you that’s what landed us in this mess in the first place.”
“My mother’s not going to ask me what sort of music you listen to or what you like to eat. She’s going to want to know about your family and where you grew up.�
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“I grew up in a small town in Alabama. My mother was a housekeeper.”
“Is she still in Alabama?”
“No. She died two months after I graduated from high school.” Simple words, complicated emotions.
She’d loved her mother, loved her because she was Caroline’s whole world and as protective as a mama alligator. But Caroline wasn’t blind to the effect of her mother’s constant rhetoric about putting her education first and not letting any man get in the way of getting her degree and starting a career.
“My mother sacrificed everything so I could go to college.”
It was easy to sound calm and rational now, but back then, with no money and no one to turn to for help, she’d been terrified and lonely. Looking back, it amazed Caroline that she’d had the nerve to move to Atlanta and start college.
“What about your dad?”
“I never knew him. Didn’t even know who he was. My mother listed Carter McCoy on my birth certificate.” She paused, but didn’t expect Simon to get the reference. “He’s the character from the movie The Getaway, with Steve McQueen.”
“Why would she do that?”
A question she’d asked her mother many times. “She told me he was a bum and that I was better off not knowing who he was.” But bum or not, the void in her life had needed filling. At first she’d made up stories about him to tell the other kids when they asked. It wasn’t as if every one of her classmates had a perfect family, but at least all of them knew who their father was.
“What about other family?”
She shrugged. “I think my grandparents kicked my mom out when they found out she was pregnant with me. She wouldn’t talk about them. I tried to get her to call them when she got sick, but she just squeezed my hand really tight and said that we were all each other had or needed.”
“I can help you find them.”
One look at his face told her his offer was genuine. She understood why he’d bought her the clothes and the jewelry—she needed them to make the right impression on his family—but why would he want to get involved in something that had nothing to do with him?
“Thanks, but you don’t have to do that.”
Simon shot her a wry glance. “I know some people who can help.”
“Private detectives? That costs money I don’t have. And before you say it, I can’t take anything more from you. Besides, I’m not even sure Sampson is my real last name. My mom was right. We were all each other had. And now there’s just me.” Caroline set her pen to paper, determined to make use of the rest of the drive and prepared to learn in a few short hours what she should have spent the last six months finding out about Simon if they actually had been dating. “Okay, I know a little bit about your mother, but what is your father like?”
Three hours later, Caroline had learned all about Simon’s childhood, his family and friends, likes and dislikes. Leaning her head back against the comfortable headrest, she gazed at the big diamond sparkling on her hand and blew out a breath. Thank goodness she had a knack for retaining facts because Simon had regaled her with six months’ worth of funny stories and useful information about his parents, brother and sister and their significant others.
“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Simon said.
She could use a couple of hours to sort through all the impressions she had about Simon’s family, but they were passing through Savannah on the way to the Historic District and the house Simon had grown up in. A house that had been in his mother’s family since the eighteen-thirties. There was a lot of tradition tied up in Simon’s roots. How would his parents feel about an interloper like her?
“It’s okay,” she said, putting her worries aside. “If I survived my complex litigation class, I can remember a couple hundred stories about your family.”
“I suppose that’s your way of saying I don’t know anything about you.”
“You already know my mother is dead and my father is a movie character, what more is there to know?” She kept her tone light, but a trace of bitterness crept in. When compared to Simon’s rich family background, her story sounded flat.
“How about what sort of music you listen to?”
“Joss Stone. Tori Amos.” She spun the engagement ring around on her finger, still unaccustomed to the weight, and assessed his lack of recognition. “I told you it doesn’t matter.”
“What does it say about me that I don’t know the simplest things about the woman I plan to marry?”
“That you’re an inconsiderate ass?”
He burst out laughing as she repeated what he’d said to his mother the day before. As his eyes glowed cobalt blue and his teeth blinded her with their perfect whiteness, she stared at him in mesmerized fascination. It should be a crime for any man to have such long eyelashes and silky blond hair. When combined with his muscular shoulders and long legs, he was almost too perfect a physical specimen. Too bad he wasn’t conceited. She might have thrown his bargain back in his face if his wry humor hadn’t balanced all that masculine beauty and disarmed her at every turn.
With his grin coaxing her to play along, she surrendered to a smile with only a tiny hesitation. When was the last time she’d felt this cheerful? The weight of her financial woes and the burden of balancing school and work usually made her feel as if a gray cloud dogged her. Being around Simon was awakening her to what it was like to be young and carefree. She’d better be careful, or the next thing she knew, she might actually be guilty of having fun.
“Okay, now don’t be put off by the house, it’s been in the family for quite a few generations and my mother is rather attached to it.”
Caroline turned toward the window and spied a huge mansion looming closer. Simon navigated a circular driveway that led to the front door. Abruptly, her lightheartedness became light-headedness. What had she gotten herself into?
“It’s huge,” she murmured, convinced the “mansion” in Barrisville, where her mother had been a housekeeper, would have fit inside these brick walls three times.
“Fourteen thousand square feet of pretentious, drafty rooms, bad wiring and outdated plumbing. It costs a fortune to maintain, a fact my father grumbles about every month as he writes the checks for electricians, plumbers and interior decorators.”
The sarcasm in Simon’s tone was too transparent to hide his grudging fondness. He might pretend he didn’t care for his childhood home, but most of his amusing stories centered on growing up here.
Staring at the elegant entry, Caroline wavered between awe and envy. Living in the servants’ quarters of the most powerful family in the county, she thought she’d understood wealth. That home had been a dollhouse compared to this one. What would it have been like to grow up in a place like this?
Simon took her hand to help her out of the car, but when she showed no signs of leaving the vehicle’s ambiguous safety, he exerted a little more effort and pulled her out. Tucking her hand into the crook of his arm, he murmured encouraging phrases as they headed up the front steps.
As he opened the door, she sidestepped away from him, realizing she’d crowded against his strong body, relying on him in a way she’d not relied on anyone since her mother died. After being alone for so long, having someone in her corner felt good. Too good. His kindness had lulled her into forgetting that they weren’t engaged. They were pretending to be engaged. She’d better remember that, because in two weeks, she’d go back to living a solo life.
While Simon announced their arrival, Caroline gaped at the grand staircase that spiraled around the foyer perimeter in a graceful half circle. Ornately carved wood spindles and the elegant crystal chandelier that illuminated the two-story entry proclaimed the home’s mid-nineteenth century vintage. She’d seen Gone With the Wind and had often wondered what it would be like to visit one of those enormous antebellum mansions, but never imagined herself staying in such grand surroundings.
Simon’s call was answered by a distinguished blond man Simon introduced as his father, Charles Ho
lcroft. Almost as tall as his son and superbly fit, Charles was an older version of his handsome son, right down to the charming grin.
“You made decent time from Atlanta,” Charles said, thumping his son on the back. “We didn’t expect you until closer to four. I hope you didn’t try breaking Dane’s record of three hours eighteen minutes.”
“Three hours thirty-seven minutes,” Simon said. “And we stopped for lunch, which tacked on more time.”
“Good. Good.” Charles switched his attention to Caroline. “Can’t be too careful with this important cargo.” He took her hand and patted it, then extended his arm to give her the once-over. From her new haircut to her expensive shoes, he missed no detail. “I’m impressed, Simon. I didn’t think you’d show up with someone this delightful. Your mother has chewed her nails to the first knuckle with curiosity.” Charles winked at Caroline. “Don’t tell her I said that. She’s going to be mad enough that I got to meet you first.”
“I-it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Holcroft,” she stammered, overwhelmed by the warm welcome and the friendly twinkle in Charles’s eye. “I’m Caroline Sampson.”
“Caroline,” Charles echoed, chuckling. “How charming. I’m sure you know our son hasn’t been very forthcoming about you. We didn’t even know your name. Please call me Charles. I hope you’ll consider yourself one of the family. Is it too forward of me to ask for a hug?”
Caroline flushed from her hairline to her toes. This was not what she’d expected. Simon had told her his father was a judge. She’d expected a stodgy, serious, uptight older man, not a charming flirt. She had suited up to face his mother’s tricky play calling, only to have his father run an end game around her defenses.
“Ah, sure.”