Winning Wyatt (The Billionaire Brotherhood Book 1)

by Floyd, Jacie

  He blushed, an uncommon reaction for him. “My instincts said you wouldn't, but I’ve been fooled before into thinking people were more interested in me than my money. Once you agreed to this trip, I thought I’d tell you as soon as you got here, but you know what happened.”

  Kara blushed in return. “I’m sure wealth and position have their drawbacks as well as their benefits, but aren’t you proud of your long and interesting family history?”

  “The history of Wyatt International is long, all right, but not all that interesting.”

  “Wyatt International? Is it more than just the stores?”

  “It started out during Reconstruction as just the stores, but during the fifties, my grandfather and Great Uncle Davis spearheaded a growth that diversified the company into areas beyond retail.”

  “Like what?”

  “Catalogue sales, manufacturing, and shipping. All fields that were a natural progression from their primary revenue.”

  She plucked at her lower lip for a moment. “How did you and the store come to have the same name?”

  “Each generation in our family gives their firstborn son the mother's maiden name.”

  “Always?” Her eyes twinkled up at him. “What if someone marries a Frumkin or a Pifflemeister?”

  “That would call for a family intervention.” Wyatt chuckled. “My Great Uncle Jarvis married a Snively from Virginia, but luckily, they failed to reproduce.”

  “No black sheep?”

  “Not until now.” His fingers began sketching tiny circles below her ear. She reached up and stopped him.

  “Are you saying you're a black sheep?” She wrinkled her brow. “Do the elder Wyatt’s expect the next generation to take control of the family-owned business?”

  “That might be Uncle Jackson’s intention. He’s mother’s brother and enjoys living the good life. He would probably be happy to turn everything over to his son Chase, sit back and sip mint juleps, and follow the horses. But my mother won’t allow anyone but me to have control of her share of Wyatt’s. And I don’t want it.”

  “A classic impasse. But you’re involved in the company in some way.”

  “Very cursory.” He hoped his clipped tone declared his boredom with the conversation. “If Mother is as smart as I think she is, she’ll groom my sister Allie to fill her shoes. Her temperament is more suited for a business career than mine, and she’s welcome to it. But she’s incapable of standing up to Mother, and sometimes she enlists my aid in that area.” Untying Kara’s robe, he back-stepped her toward the bedroom.

  “Also, Mother doesn’t like to admit that she’s bred any child who isn’t interested in her life’s work. So she expects me to present myself front and center whenever a show of family unity is called for.”

  “And you do.”

  He climbed back into the bed and she settled in beside him. “It’s a small enough price to pay for independence. And it keeps the peace.”

  “Did you never want to manage the family business?”

  “Never.”

  “And you didn’t want to follow your father’s footsteps into the law, either?”

  “Not really.” He shifted her head to a more comfortable spot on his broad shoulder. “I always loved reading and the power of words crafted effectively, so I may have toyed with the idea for a while when I was at Duke. But in the end, I found the study of law too tedious.”

  “Was your father as disappointed by that decision as your mother was about your refusal to go into her family business?”

  “He probably would have been, if he’d been alive to see it. Entering the legal profession is as long a tradition in the Maitland family as retailing is in the Wyatts.”

  “It must have been difficult to go against traditions on both sides of the family.”

  If she only knew. “There was no way I could have fulfilled their lofty expectations, so I didn't even try.” He bent his head and nipped her shoulder. “And just now, I’m wondering why you’re so interested in decisions that were made a long time ago.”

  Again, she evaded his distraction tactics. “The only thing we have in my family that my parents have owned longer than their refrigerator is a replica of the Eiffel Tower my grandfather bought in France when he was in the Army. I can’t imagine walking away from so many ties to the past.”

  “Oh, honey, I didn’t walk away, I ran. If you live with them too long, all those ties feel more like chains holding you back from your real future.”

  Delivery of their room service meal interrupted Kara’s inquisition. They ate at a small table by the window. Wyatt couldn’t get his fill of looking at her and moved the floral centerpiece out of the way to have an unobstructed view. She seemed distracted. He wanted to regain her attention.

  Finally, her gaze met his. “How was your flight?”

  “Fine.”

  “It must have been nice to have someone you knew on board.”

  She pulled her eyebrows together. “Who?”

  “You were with someone when you got off the plane.”

  “Oh, that was Lilah. I didn't know her. She was seated across the aisle from me. While she was feeding the baby, the older child got bored. I figured traveling with an infant and a two-year-old couldn't be easy, so I entertained him for a while, and then helped her again as we got off the plane.”

  “You looked awfully comfortable with the children.”

  “I wasn’t, until recently. Especially children that age. That’s just one of several positive changes that have occurred in my life since I returned from California.”

  He settled his chin on his hand, happy to have her with him again. “What else?”

  “I've been getting out more.” She began to list her accomplishments with a grin of satisfaction. “Met some people. Made some friends. Bought a house.”

  He gave a low whistle. “That was a big step.”

  “Much bigger than I originally planned. The project should keep me busy for quite a while.”

  “What kind of house?”

  Kara eyed him over her champagne flute. “An old Victorian. Twelve rooms including a turret and a gazebo.”

  “Twelve rooms? Do you need that much space?”

  “Probably not, but there’s room for a studio if I want to take up painting again. And hopefully I won’t always live there alone.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “I'd like to have children someday. Wouldn’t you?”

  He stopped eating and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “No.”

  “You’re kidding.” She half-smiled, as if suspecting him of pulling her leg.

  “No, I’m not.” He barely managed to repress a shudder.

  Kara put down her fork. “Why not?”

  He gave a self-deprecating shrug. “I’m just a selfish bastard, I guess.”

  She blinked at him. “That’s not true. Exactly.”

  “I’ve never understood the burning compulsion other people feel about having children. Ultimately, I think fathering a child requires more of a commitment than I'm willing to make.”

  She sipped champagne while puzzling over his response. “You’ve never felt the desire to generate a new life? To create an unbreakable bond with a person who’s a tangible part of you? To have someone to love and to teach and to care for?”

  He shook his head. “It always seems to me the desire most people feel about procreation stems more from a need to control someone else’s life than anything else.”

  “Let me clarify.” She stood and moved several steps away from him, like a prosecutor in a court of law. “You don’t have any children, and you don’t ever want to have any?”

  He hated to disappoint her, but they’d always been truthful with one another. “Correct.”

  “But I thought...”

  “What?”

  “There’s a picture at your cabin of you with a woman and a boy who looks quite a bit like you.”

  Wyatt just stared at her. “And you thought the boy was my son? That the woman was my—wh
at? Wife? Mistress? Girlfriend?”

  “One of those.”

  “The boy is my nephew and the woman’s my sister—” he began, and then cut himself off. “Why do you always look at me like that when I mention her?”

  Kara returned to her seat and picked up her fork. Instead of continuing to eat, she pushed the last few green beans around on her plate. “Are you close?”

  “My sister and I?”

  “No.” She scowled, making him feel like the slow student in the class. There must be something he was missing. “We’ve established that fact, over and over. I meant, you and your nephew.”

  “As close as I can be with someone with whom I have nothing in common.”

  She looked up from her green bean dissection. “Nothing?”

  He shook his head. “Not as far as I can discern.”

  “What sort of things does he like?”

  “I don’t know.” Wyatt shrugged, uncertain where this conversation had originated or where it would end. “Children are a mystery to me. If he doesn't have an interest in literature, art, cars, women or single malt liquor, what else is there?”

  Apparently unamused by his clever response, Kara pressed on. “How old is he?”

  Setting his fork aside again, he rested his chin on his clasped hands. “Thirteen? Fourteen? Somewhere around there.”

  “Then you’re probably mistaken. If he hasn’t already, he’ll develop an interest in at least three of those subjects very soon. And literature won’t be one of them. At the rate kids mature these days, he’ll be able to teach you a few things before long. Call me if he does.”

  “Are you implying my education may be lacking in one or more of those areas?” Wyatt reached across the table, circled her wrist with his fingers, and pulled. “Come sit on my lap while we discuss this. I believe I can prove differently.”

  She complied, but very hesitantly. Before his hand made its way inside her robe, a rap sounded on the door.

  “That must be your luggage.” Wyatt motioned for Kara to join them while he swung the door wide. “Come and meet one of my oldest friends. This is Jonah Wilson. Jonah, Kara Enderley.”

  Kara clutched the top of the wrap-around robe together with one hand and extended the other. It got swallowed up in Jonah's gnarled grip. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wilson. Thank you for getting my luggage.”

  “No problem, miss.” Jonah answered in a deep, rich voice that rumbled like James Earl Jones’.

  “Thanks, Jonah.” Wyatt clapped the older man on the back. “Would you like to stay for a drink, or do you need to get back to Isabelle?”

  “Thank you, Mr. Wyatt, but you know Izzy. She’ll be hollering if I don’t get right back.” He opened the door, stopped and leveled a sharp gaze at Wyatt. “She says your mama wants you to bring this young lady out to the house for dinner. Y’all gonna do that?”

  Wyatt sighed. “I can’t refuse Mother and Izzy both. Besides, I wouldn't dream of depriving a guest of the opportunity to eat Izzy’s cooking.”

  “She’ll be happy you said so,” Jonah said over his shoulder as he left.

  Wyatt turned and reached for Kara again. “Weren’t we about to do something interesting when Jonah arrived?”

  Kara sidestepped him and rolled her bag toward the bedroom. “I can’t think what.”

  “Think hard.” Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her close. “It’ll come to you.”

  She surprised him by holding him off. “I’m sure it will. But while I’m thinking, I’ll wash up. I’m feeling grubby all of a sudden.” She slipped out of his grasp and into the bathroom with her suitcase, closing and locking the door in his face.

  “Kara...” He raised his voice to be heard through the thick panel.

  “I’ll be out in a minute,” she called before turning the water on.

  Biting back his frustration, Wyatt grabbed his phone and checked his messages until Kara returned, seventeen minutes later. Not that he’d been counting. Setting the phone aside, he poured them both a glass of champagne. He came toward her, placed the drink in her hand, and then a kiss on her lips. Kara stiffened and drew back.

  “Something wrong?”

  “No.” She bit her lip, looked away, and then peered back at him. “Yes.”

  “What?”

  “We can’t start anything interesting again tonight.”

  What new game was this? “No kissing?”

  She held her hands in front of her as if holding him off.“Kissing would be okay, but we never just kiss. Kissing leads to sex.”

  “Does this mean the honeymoon’s over?”

  Kara took a gulp of champagne. “It means I forgot my birth control pills.”

  He hid his concern, letting his eyes search her face. This lack of contraception seemed awfully convenient when he was hot and horny. And she had just become aware of his family name. He pushed the unworthy suspicion aside. “Are there likely to be consequences from our earlier activities?”

  “Like the child you don’t want? Probably not, but we shouldn’t take any further risks.”

  He took the glass from her hand and set it aside before leading her toward the sofa. “Lack of birth control isn’t an insurmountable problem. We can be creative.”

  But early the next morning, Wyatt slipped out and returned with a box of condoms. “As enjoyable as last night was,” he murmured in Kara's ear as he awakened her, “some things just can't be duplicated.”

  Friday afternoon, Kara and Wyatt returned to the hotel from a gloriously romantic overnight trip to Savannah. Wyatt’s phone beeped. Since Kara didn’t want to eavesdrop on his business calls, she headed toward the other room. When she emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, he disconnected the call and cursed.

  “Bad news?” She took a seat beside him on the bed.

  “On the contrary.” He smiled at her with false cheerfulness. “Mother has invited us for cocktails and an inquisition at seven, with an informal dinner to follow.”

  She flopped back against the mattress. “Us? Really? Both of us? She didn’t specifically name me in the invitation, did she?”

  “Of course. You’re the honored guest.”

  “Why would she care about meeting me?”

  “Because you're here with me.” He stretched out beside Kara and tucked her up against his side. “And that’s a first.”

  “Hah! You can’t tell me you haven’t stayed in a hotel with a woman before.”

  He shrugged and toyed with a strand of her hair. “I’ve never spent a week at a hotel in ‘Lanta with a woman before. That she knows about.”

  “Wyatt, I’ve seen how miffed the local females are when they realize I’m with you. Your family can’t possibly think you’re a twenty-eight-year-old virgin.”

  He brushed a knuckle against her flushed cheeks. “No, but they know I don’t tend to linger very long with one woman.”

  “You told me you were engaged once. Did you linger long with her?”

  “We didn't ‘linger’ at all, actually.” He pulled away at the thought of his scheming, money-hungry ex-fiancée.

  “What happened?”

  “My family knew hers.” He turned over on his back. “Our parents encouraged the engagement. Everyone thought we were perfect for one another.”

  “But you weren’t? Who broke it off?”

  He stacked his hands behind his head. “We came to realize that sex didn’t make a marriage, and marriage wasn’t what we wanted.”

  He kept his tone so studiously flat that she had to wonder what he was leaving out. And of course, Kara had to pursue the subject. “What was her name?”

  “Chloe Ashford.”

  Kara groaned and covered her eyes. “Even her name sounds gorgeous.”

  Wyatt turned from his study of the ceiling and smiled ruefully. “Ugly wasn’t the problem.”

  She frowned. “What was?”

  He shrugged her off again. “We developed other interests.”

  As his fingers brus
hed from the tender spot below her ear down to the swell of her breast, she attempted one more question. “Is she the reason you’re so cynical?”

  “Am I cynical? I would have described it more as being—” he searched for the appropriate word while his fingers teased her nipple “—wary. It’s been the despair of my mother for years, so she likes to check out any woman I spend time with for warts. Don’t take the interrogation too personally.”

  “Seeing as I’m relatively wart-free,” Kara said, giving into the distraction his fingers provided, “I’m not worried.”

  Brave words, he thought later as they pulled into the circular driveway of the family home. Wyatt watched Kara out of the corner of his eye. Her mood since leaving the hotel had been too subdued, even for Kara.

  The stirrings of an emotion very similar to love fluttered, but that didn’t worry him. He’d flirted with love before and knew the feeling wouldn't last. Just because he enjoyed her company, lusted after her body, missed her like the devil when she wasn’t around, and didn’t want to see her ripped apart at the hands of his mother… Well, those weren’t necessarily enduring emotions.

  He stopped the car in front of the house and looked at her to gage her reaction. To him, the calumniated showplace with covered porches, sloping rooflines, and widespread wings was nothing more than the prison he’d grown up in. But guests usually responded to their first glimpse with either admiration or envy. Kara seemed more dismayed than anything else.

  He picked up her slender hand. It took grazing his lips over her knuckles to get her attention. “It’s just a house.”

  “Like Winchester Cathedral is just a church.” Her voice rose several octaves higher than normal.

  He drew her into his arms for a bracing hug. “Just remember, my mother likes to think she’s the queen of ‘Lanta, but she's not. Only mortals live in this house.”

  “Can I imagine them naked?” Kara’s arms clung to him.

  “My mother and my uncle, yes.” He chuckled and kissed her temple. “But my cousin Chase, no. He’ll be looking for an opportunity to move in on you anyway. Watch out for him.” Opening the car door, he pulled her out with him. “Let’s get this over with.”