His Secret Temptation

by Cat Schield

  “For what? Because of what I’ve been dealing with these last few months?” Elizabeth offered her a reassuring smile. “I won’t tell you it was a picnic, but I survived and now I welcome every day as a blessing.”

  Caroline didn’t realize how close her emotions were to the surface until Elizabeth’s gentle squeeze made her nose prickle. The next thing she knew, she was blinking moisture from her eyes. Her own mother had shown a similar strength and peacefulness. If Penny had sought help sooner, would she still be alive?

  Releasing a shaky laugh, Caroline dabbed at the tears gathering on her lashes. “Wow, I’m not sure where these are coming from.”

  Elizabeth’s own eyes were brighter than moments before, but her voice was strong and sure as she said, “I think you’ve been alone a long time. I’m glad you’re going to be joining our family. I know I can never replace your mother, but from now on, I’m going to think of you as my daughter.”

  That declaration, followed by a tight hug, made Caroline’s vocal cords knot. She breathed deep, imprinting the woman’s jasmine scent into her memories and hugged back, pretending for this fragment of time that she wasn’t an impostor. That she was no longer alone.

  Chapter Five

  Simon retreated from the torture chamber he would share with Caroline for the next fourteen nights and retraced his steps to the first floor. How the hell was he supposed to sleep beside Caroline and keep his hands to himself?

  The kiss they’d shared earlier that day had demonstrated a mutual attraction. How strong was the pull between them? Curiosity raged. Her bed had been three strides away. If he’d swept her into his arms and carried her to that bed, would she have protested? How far would it have gone before she’d come to her senses? How the hell was he going to lie inches away from her night after night and leave those questions unanswered?

  His chest tightened. Making love to her might be the perfect Christmas present for him, but it wasn’t part of the bargain he’d made with her.

  He paused in the kitchen to greet Sylvia, his parents’ housekeeper. With a peck on the cheek and a quick taste of what she had simmering on the stove, he headed down another set of stairs to the ground floor where he could escape his worries by immersing himself in a game of pool. Unfortunately, as he stepped off the last tread, the sharp thwack of ball striking ball meant he wasn’t alone.

  “Hey, Dane,” he called, entering the game room his mother had installed in the mansion in an effort to keep her active children from wreaking havoc on hundred-year-old antiques.

  “Well, if it isn’t my baby brother,” Dane said, looking satisfied as the ball he’d aimed at dropped into a pocket.

  “You’ve been practicing.” Simon picked up a cue stick and began to chalk it. “Were you hoping to win back the hundred I took off you last year?”

  “That was nothing but luck.”

  “Right.” Simon drew the word out in a not-so-subtle taunt. “And the seventy-five the year before? And the fifty the year before that?”

  “Shut up and rack ’em.”

  With a smirk, Simon did as he was told. Then, he stood back and gestured for his brother to break. “Did you see that Mom put me your old room this year? She remodeled the bathroom. Dad said it almost bankrupted him, but it sure looks great.”

  Dane sent the cue ball streaking toward the triangle of stripes and solids. A loud crack sent the balls spinning across the table. Number fifteen dropped in. His brother smirked. For a second, Simon toyed with letting him win. That would certainly be a first in their relationship. It might even be a step in the direction of personal growth. Of course, then he’d probably let slip what he’d done and that would definitely render any progress null and void.

  “Stripes,” Dane announced, lining up for his next shot. “I suppose Mom wanted to make a good impression on your new fiancée.” Emphasis on the last word.

  Simon’s gaze followed number thirteen as it dropped into a side pocket, and he wondered what his brother had thought of the surprise engagement.

  “And it’s working,” he said. “She’s looking a little overwhelmed by all the attention.”

  “I’m not surprised. Francine got the impression she wasn’t your type.”

  Although Simon had a pretty clear idea of the sort of women his family thought he preferred, he asked the question anyway. “What type is she?”

  “Unsophisticated.”

  “I doubt that was the word Francine used.” Simon fought to keep his annoyance from showing as he waited for Dane to take his next shot. Where did Francine get off passing judgment on Caroline? “It’s no secret that Caroline is as different from Francine as day is to night.”

  Better. He should have said Caroline was better than Francine. In so many ways. Her determination. Her softness. No hard edges on the hardworking law student. Maybe a few prickles, but roses needed thorns for protection. If he was honest with himself, he would admit that she needed to be protected from him.

  “I can’t wait to meet her.” Dane circled the table in search of his next shot. As he passed Simon, he jabbed the butt of his cue stick into Simon’s abs. “By the way, what exactly was my fiancée doing at your place?”

  Simon waited until Dane’s shot missed the pocket, before saying, “She came to tell me she picked the wrong brother to marry.”

  Dane laughed as he retreated to one of the bar stools placed against the wall, but he had his lawyer face on. “No really, why was she there?”

  “I don’t know. She’s your fiancée.” Simon chalked his cue stick and studied the table. “Why does Francine do anything?”

  “Good point.”

  Simon sunk two balls in a row, moving fluidly around the table toward his third shot. He’d spent a lot of time practicing this game when he was younger, time that probably would have been better spent studying chemistry or doing his English homework.

  At this point Simon could have let the matter of Francine’s visit drop, but nothing about their irregular little triangle had ever sat easily with him. “I thought maybe it was your idea that she show up looking all sexy and gorgeous to rub my face in how you were the luckiest guy in the world and I was a schmuck.”

  Dane frowned as he followed Simon’s progress around the table and watched his win slip away from him. “You are a schmuck.”

  Simon imagined slipping into bed beside Caroline. Of her pale hair flowing across the pillow and her face relaxed as she slept. Of kissing her awake in the middle of the night and making slow, silent love to her as the rest of the house slumbered around them. A string of curses slid through his mind as his blood thickened and slowed. He could feel each beat of his heart push anticipation through his veins until he ached.

  “Yep,” he agreed. “The unluckiest schmuck in the world.” He lined up his shot and sunk two balls at once. All he had left was the eight ball. He planted the butt of his cue on the floor and flashed Dane a smug grin. “Except when it comes to pool.” He tapped the eight ball in.

  Dane grimaced. “Best two out of three?”

  “Sure.”

  They were setting up for game three when Elizabeth came down the stairs. “Simon, can I speak to you for a moment?”

  “Can’t it wait?” Dane injected. “We’re all tied up at the moment, and he’s going down.”

  Simon had let him win the second game. Not out of some altruistic gesture, but because victory always tasted sweeter when your opponent thought he was going to win. Well, maybe some of his shots had been a little off because Dane had grilled him about Caroline and thrown off his concentration. Until subjected to his brother’s third degree, he hadn’t appreciated how little he knew about her. Maybe he should’ve spent some time on the drive down asking her questions instead of regaling her with amusing stories of his past.

  “Dane, you know I hate all this competitiveness between you two.” Elizabeth advanced into the room and plucked the cue out of her elder son’s hand. “I’m sure Simon will make himself available for another game at some poi
nt before you leave. Right now I’d like to talk to him. Why don’t you go upstairs and help your father with the martinis.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Married thirty-five years and the man still can’t make a decent cocktail.”

  Simon took Dane’s cue stick from his mother and circled the table to return both to the rack. He waited until Dane’s footsteps faded up the stairs before facing her. “So, now that you’ve grilled Caroline, it’s my turn to be interrogated?”

  “Interrogated?” Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest and lined up Simon in her sights. “Is that what you think I do? You are a horrible boy. Where did I go wrong?”

  “Nowhere, Mom. You were a perfect parent. What do you want to know first?”

  Returning to her side, he leaned down and kissed her cheek. She smelled like expensive flowers and he wanted to linger with his arms around her until he’d convinced himself she was all right. All his life she’d been the strongest person he knew. The cancer had changed that. Gave him a glimpse of her fear. Forced him to watch as the chemo ravaged her body. Never in his life had he felt more helpless.

  “Why did you go out and buy her all new clothes?”

  He raked his fingers through his hair, wondering if he would ever be able to have a simple conversation with his mother that didn’t involve her trying to push, pull or pry. “Did she tell you that?”

  “Of course not. But you don’t think I could see that all those clothes were fresh off the rack of whatever expensive boutiques Atlanta boasts these days? Why did you buy her a brand-new wardrobe?”

  She wasn’t asking because she disapproved but because Elizabeth Holcroft was a lifelong student of human nature and his answer would tell her a lot about his relationship with Caroline.

  “She doesn’t have much. I thought she’d feel more comfortable if she looked as if she fit in.”

  “Is that the truth? Or did you think you had to dress her up so we would accept her?”

  “That never crossed my mind.” And it hadn’t. Not really.

  She’d needed something to wear to all the parties his mother wanted them to attend. But in the end, he’d bought the clothes because he’d had fun watching her resist the lure of sensuous fabrics and lose every battle. Her financial struggles had forced her to avoid anything frivolous, and what could be more frivolous that spending thousands of dollars on clothes?

  “She’s proud and stubborn,” he said. “Doesn’t like me to spend money on her, but you should have seen how much she enjoyed the shopping spree once we got past the first few purchases.” He grinned at the memory. “It was like a kid getting a puppy for Christmas.”

  “Good.” His mother squeezed his forearm. “I thought maybe you were ashamed because she comes from a simple background.”

  Simon saw Caroline had been right to tell his mother the truth about where she was from. She wasn’t the sort to pretend to be something she wasn’t. At least not unless the likes of him backed her into a corner and compelled her to go against her nature. No, Caroline was exactly the woman she appeared to be.

  And damn, if that wasn’t refreshing after some of the women he dated.

  “Or did you think because she didn’t have any money of her own that we would think she was after yours?”

  “Of course not,” Simon exploded. “But have you looked at your home and how you live? Can you not see that the girl is overwhelmed to be in this environment? At least with the new clothes she can appear as if she fits in.”

  “And if she appears to fit in, she will begin to believe she does?” Elizabeth guessed, her eyes softening with fondness. “How very clever you are.”

  He grunted dismissively at his mother’s praise, but was glad he’d pleased her. That’s what bringing Caroline to Savannah had been all about. Giving his mother a wonderful Christmas.

  “I suppose she told you how we met too.”

  “That she cleaned your house?” Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, that’s charming.”

  Simon wasn’t sure whether to laugh or groan. He’d concocted an elaborate and romantic tale about their first meeting only to be shot down. He imagined Dane’s amusement when he heard the true story. “I’m not sure the rest of my family will agree.”

  “You mean Dane and Francine? You’re probably right. But I don’t think you have to worry about Caroline as much as you think. There’s a lot of steel beneath that soft-spoken exterior.” His mother framed his face with her hands and grinned at him. “I like this side of you.”

  “What side is that?”

  “Protective.”

  Is that how he was behaving? He didn’t recall feeling protective about a woman before. That made him sound territorial. Like he’d claimed her as his own. As if all the attraction he felt for Caroline was somehow tangled with something besides simple lust. Like emotion. Not an uncomplicated emotion like fondness, but something that might go deeper.

  Simon shied away from exploring too far, and by the time he and his mother emerged from the lower level, he’d convinced himself that she was reading too much into his behavior. Sure, he wanted to shield Caroline from anyone’s negative opinion, but that was nothing more than courtesy. It certainly wasn’t because he felt possessive.

  Or so he thought until he rounded the corner and entered the parlor his mother preferred to use during the winter months. This particular room had pale cream paint on the walls and French doors that led out on to the back terrace, beyond which were the pool and gardens.

  His cousin, Harold, stood beside the fireplace, leaning against the intricately carved mantel. He had obviously begun his happy hour early because his face was flushed and he was dominating the discussion with a loud, off-color story about someone named June or Jen. Simon couldn’t have said which because his attention had locked on one of the two curved sofas that flanked a scalloped coffee table.

  Upholstered in pale green, one held Simon’s aunt and uncle, Jerry and Delores Holcroft. Caroline and Dane occupied the other one, and he was holding her hand. Correction; he was caressing her hand and looked very much like he wished he had her alone to do a whole lot more.

  Every hair on Simon’s body stood up. His instincts shouted at him to charge across the room and punch his brother in the face. He’d actually taken a step in that direction when his mother appeared at his side gracefully balancing a silver tray of martini glasses.

  She handed him a glass. “I told your father he was putting too much vermouth in the martinis, but he never listens to me.” She took stock of his expression and frowned. “Simon, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” he growled. “Excuse me while I go rescue my fiancée.”

  A part of his mind registered that he was glaring, but until Caroline looked up and spotted him bearing down on her, he didn’t realize how angry he was. Dane smirked up at him as Simon neared, adding fuel to the annoyance raging inside him.

  Since “unhand my fiancée” seemed a little over the top, he settled for, “Weren’t you supposed to be helping Dad make martinis? Mom thinks he’s using too much vermouth. Why don’t you go check up on him.”

  “I’m sure he’s doing just fine.” Dane winked at Caroline as she pulled her hand free. “I was just admiring your fiancée’s ring. She said you picked it out.”

  “Yeah, so what?”

  Simon squeezed into the narrow gap between Caroline and Dane, glad the limited space gave him the excuse to crowd his body against hers. Ignoring his brother, he offered her the martini glass. She took it in both hands, her gaze searching his face, but he couldn’t unclench enough to reassure her with a smile.

  Dane shrugged. “I’m a little surprised you didn’t go bigger.”

  “It’s big enough,” Simon retorted, raising his eyebrows at Dane to let his big brother know the stone was larger than Francine’s.

  “I think Simon did a great job,” Caroline chimed in, extending her hand to admire the ring. “It’s exactly what I would have bought if he’d taken me along.”

  “See, Dane?” Simon slu
ng his arm over the back of the couch and shot his brother a triumphant smirk. “It’s all about making the lady happy.”

  “Have you two set a date?” his mother injected, making a small face after tasting her martini. “I’ve always been partial to May weddings.”

  “No.” Caroline rushed the answer, and when everyone focused on her, she raised the glass to her lips and drank.

  “What she means,” Simon began, lifting his voice to be heard over her coughing fit, “is that she needs to finish law school and get her career established before she’s going to be able to concentrate on planning a big wedding.” He plucked the martini from her hand and sipped the drink his father had made. It was awful. “I keep telling her we should run off to St. Barts and get married on the beach—”

  “Don’t you dare,” his mother interrupted from the other side of the room.

  “But she wants a church wedding and to walk down the aisle in a long white dress…” His voice trailed off as the picture he was painting became all too vivid. Details popped into his mind of exactly how she would smile at him as he held her hand and spoke his vows. Of the kiss they would share after being pronounced man and wife. Of how her body would feel beneath his on their wedding night.

  “Simon?”

  He looked down into her gray-green eyes and sucked in a breath. What had just happened? Tearing his gaze away, he slapped a smile on his face and stood.

  “I had some terrific wine shipped from Australia. Is anyone up for trying a dry Riesling?” As agreement echoed around the room, he captured Caroline’s hand and pulled her to her feet as well. “Come help me, darling.”

  Once they were out of the room, he slowed.

  “Are you okay?” Caroline quizzed, squeezing his hand and gaining his attention.

  He stopped dead. No, he wasn’t okay. Anything but. His brother had been flirting with Caroline. Was Dane messing with him, or was it something more serious? His brother had been engaged to Francine for three years without setting a date. Maybe she’d been right to think things weren’t going well between them. Was he looking to break their engagement?