by Floyd, Jacie
Kara smoothed the front of her dress. “If you don’t want to be here, and I don’t want to be here, then why are we here?”
“If I refused, she’d find some other way to meet you.” She’d probably been having them discreetly followed all week. “This way, at least, we know what we’re walking into.” He led the way up the steps to the massive front doors. With his hand on the doorknob, he paused and looked her in the eye. “We can leave if you want to. It’s your call.”
She donned a brave smile. “I don’t mind going in, really.”
“Look on the bright side. She hardly ever takes prisoners, and you’ll have the best meal of your life. If Izzy’s made her lemon meringue pie, you’ll think you’ve died and gone to Heaven.”
“As in, the condemned woman ate a hearty last meal?” Kara joked as Wyatt squeezed her hand.
“Mr. Wyatt, right on time.” Jonah welcomed them with a wide smile. “And Ms. Enderley, how nice to see you again. My Izzy's been looking forward to meeting you if you have time to stop in and see her later.”
“Yes, I’d love to.”
“Let’s go see her now.” Wyatt decided to buy Kara a few more minutes to prepare herself for meeting the dragon lady.
“No.” Jonah guided Wyatt into the behavior expected of him. “Your mamma’s waiting on you, and Izzy’s bound to be in a tizzy putting the finishing touches on the dinner.”
Wyatt shrugged and steered Kara across the foyer to the formal sitting room where his mother preferred to receive guests. He winced as he took in the group his mother had assembled for the inspection of Kara. And the gang's all here.
Chapter Ten
The exterior of the house had been intimidating enough. If the football stadium-sized room in front of Kara rivaled the Louvre in terms of original art, then she must be part of the main exhibit. None of the assembled guests bothered to disguise their curiosity about her. But she could handle all of them. However, Rosalie Wyatt Maitland’s icy demeanor inspired Kara to cower behind the grand piano.
Normally, Kara would rush to examine the paintings and other masterpieces that adorned the room, but the woman holding court commanded everyone’s attention. With one glance at her regal bearing, Kara would have known of the Wyatt family’s celebrated ancestry even if Wyatt hadn’t filled her in on it that afternoon. The Maitland matriarch sat upon her rosewood brocade chair like a throne, her faithful minions gathered about. With Kara and Wyatt’s entrance into the room, Rosalie extended her right hand.
“Come in, dear.” She smiled with the satisfaction of a tiger. “We’re anxious to meet your guest.”
Wyatt led Kara forward and formally presented her. His mother placed her smooth, aristocratic fingers into Kara’s for a condescending shake of fingertips. Kara controlled her urge to curtsy.
Cool green eyes looked Kara over with the distaste of a gourmand who has just been served inferior meat. As Kara was judged, she rediscovered her backbone and returned the calculating appraisal. Rosalie was an indisputable beauty with the means and desire to take the very best care of herself. The coloring to her highlighted hair had been skillfully applied. Her mint-green dinner suit complimented her peaches-and-cream complexion as well as her eyes. The pearl buttons along the front looked like the real thing.
“How do you do?” The voice emerged as sweet, slow, and chilly as refrigerated syrup. “I hope you’re enjoying your stay in Atlanta, Ms. Enderley.”
In the car on the way over, Kara had decided to hide behind the ‘less is better’ approach to conversation. She instituted it now. “Yes, ma’am, very much.”
“I wish Wyatt—” Before her wish was completed, voices interrupted from the foyer.
“Why did I have to come tonight anyway?” said a young male in a sullen tone.
“Grandmother asked you to,” a woman calmly replied.
“I’d rather eat in the kitchen with Izzy and Jonah,” the younger voice complained.
Kara watched Mrs. Maitland’s smooth expression tighten. Otherwise, the woman displayed no reaction to the exchange. All eyes turned toward the door as the pair entered the room. The boy dragged his feet. His mother blushed, but put a protective hand on his shoulder as they approached Rosalie.
“Good evening, Mother.”
“Hello, dear,” Rosalie returned in the same possessive tone she’d used on Wyatt. “And Alexander, how nice of you to join us. I was afraid you’d have other plans for the evening.”
“No, ma’am.” He adjusted his collar as if it were a size too small. He looked up from his study of the Aubusson carpet and met his grandmother's eyes. “But the Braves are on TV and I wanted to watch the game.”
“Ah.” She nodded. “We’ll see what we can do. Mind your manners. It’s possible you may be excused from dinner.”
His frown disappeared as his grandmother dangled the partial pardon. Jonah came and spoke quietly in Rosalie’s ear. The youngster turned to his grandmother’s right.
“Hi, Uncle Wyatt.”
Other muted conversations resumed as Wyatt responded to his nephew. “Hey, Xander. How’s it going?”
“Fine, thank you, sir.”
Wyatt gave his sister a hug. “I’d like to introduce you both to Kara Enderley. Kara, this is my sister, Allison Spencer, and her son, Maitland Alexander Spencer.” He poked Kara in the side. “Allie probably has some ID with her if you want to see it.”
Darting him a speaking glance, she shook hands with them both. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Allison.”
“Call me, Allie, please. And don’t mind Wyatt, he’s a terrible tease.” The woman’s brown and gold eyes twinkled like her brother’s, and Kara felt an immediate friendliness toward her. “Wyatt, why don’t you get us a drink?”
“I haven’t finished introducing Kara around yet.”
His sister shooed him away. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Come help me carry the drinks, Xander.” Wyatt and his nephew headed toward the bar.
As promised, Allison took Kara around the room, presenting her to Rosalie’s brother Jackson Wyatt, his wife Martha, and their son Chase, Wyatt’s smoothly good-looking cousin.
Wyatt and Xander returned with drinks while a young uniformed maid circulated with a tray of canapés. Just as she finished serving, a strikingly chic couple entered the room with an energetic burst of apologies to Rosalie for being late. Beside Kara, Allie choked slightly on a crab puff.
Wyatt’s reaction to the slinky blonde and her tall, dark partner wasn’t quite so pronounced. But Kara noticed he focused more attention than necessary on his next sip of bourbon.
“Did you know about this?” Allie said to him in an undertone.
“No.” He looked at her carefully. “Are you feeling all right? It would be more than acceptable for you to come down with something contagious right about now if you want to.”
“I can do this if you can.”
“Why should it be a problem for me? I’ve been immune to this particular virus for a long time.”
“Oh, right.” Her tone remained light but crossed her eyes at him. “I forgot. You’re invincible.”
Rosalie didn’t quite raise her voice as she called for Wyatt and Allie to come and greet the newly arrived guests. Her request floated to their corner with the kind of resonance developed by a seasoned stage actress. Wyatt gripped Kara’s elbow, moving her with him and Allie to Rosalie’s side.
“Thank you for inviting me this evening, Mrs. Maitland,” the ethereal female with the fashion-model looks drawled. “Wasn’t it fortunate I ran into y’all this morning? Mother and Father send their regrets.”
“I’m so sorry they couldn’t join us.” Rosalie allowed the vision in pink to kiss the air beside her cheek. “That’s the problem with these little impromptu gatherings. So many of our friends already have other commitments.”
“You said to bring a guest, and I know how close Wyatt and Buck used to be. When he happened to call me this afternoon...” The blonde let her comment trail
off and gave a helpless shrug. From the taut reaction of the others, Kara didn’t think the gesture was as artless as it seemed.
The older woman turned chilly eyes toward the male newcomer. “Buck Cooper.” She pursed her lips like she’d just bit into a persimmon. “It’s been a long time.”
“Too long, Mrs. Maitland.” He arched his brows in a challenge as he bowed over her hand. Straightening, he greeted Wyatt and Allie with warmth and affection, but Kara could have plucked the tension that existed among the three of them like a banjo.
“And who is this beautiful stranger?” Buck asked Wyatt.
Wyatt drew her to his side with a possessive arm around her waist. “Kara, this is Buck Cooper, one of my oldest and most disreputable friends.”
Buck clasped her hand a second too long, but Kara didn’t mind. The man had the brooding sort of good looks that spelled trouble for the unwary, but she didn’t sense a lick of true danger in him. Rather than menacing, Kara thought he looked more ill at ease in this uber-rich setting than she did.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me, too, Wyatt?” The blonde pressed the side of her breast against his bicep while linking her skinny arm through his. Kara felt an intense desire to spill red wine down the front of the vixen’s sinfully sheer blush-pink sheath.
“Yes, dear. Don't be embarrassed,” Wyatt's mother instructed. “The fact that Chloe's your former fiancée shouldn’t matter to your new friend. It was all so long ago after all.”
Damn his mother.
At the dinner table, Wyatt sliced into Izzy’s delicious roast duck with unnecessary force. Mother had planned for this evening to be awkward, and he resented her scheming. He looked down the long table, over the glittering ocean of Waterford and Limoges toward Allie to exchange a moment of silent communication with her. He knew she must resent it, too, but she made a practice of pretending she didn’t mind their mother’s constant string-pulling.
To be fair, his mother had gotten her just desserts with Buck Cooper’s arrival, thanks to Chloe. The conniving little witch. If it weren’t for Kara and Allie, Wyatt would have found his mother’s manipulations amusing. But he hated for other people to get hurt when she was trying to get to him.
Luckily, the scheme to throw the cat among the pigeons hadn’t seemed to faze Kara. She’d taken the meeting with Chloe in stride and was more than holding her own as everyone present tried to worm personal information out of her.
Chloe’s phony lilting laughter trilled through the air and drew every eye. Although Buck was her escort, the bulk of her attention bounced back and forth between Wyatt and Chase, leaving Buck free to concentrate on Allie. If Chloe represented the closest Wyatt had ever come to fulfilling his mother's expectations, then Allie’s college fling with Buck was the closest she had ever been to defying them.
Wyatt tuned back into the conversation. “You want me to go to the Charlotte store with you on Monday, Mother? I should be free to do that.”
“There’s a situation I hoped you’d take care of for me on Monday, too, Wyatt,” Uncle Jackson said from across the table.
“If I can.” He swallowed a sigh. The month he spent in Atlanta every fall was only a vacation in the sense that it occurred during his teaching break. In reality, for the four weeks in September and a long weekend every month, he was at the beck and call of Wyatt Enterprises.
“Perhaps that problem would best be discussed later,” Rosalie suggested.
One long-standing family rule prohibited them from discussing business in front of outsiders. Although he didn’t think the precaution necessary in Kara’s case, Buck always seemed to be on the lookout for privileged information
“Mother, did you hear about the exhibit of Faberge eggs that will be in Atlanta next month?”
“Yes, dear.” She nodded for Jonah to refill her water glass. “I’ve made arrangements for the family to attend a private showing.”
“Kara saw the exhibit when it was in New York.”
Kara smiled at him. “The history and craftsmanship are equally fascinating”.
“Rosalie should show you her egg,” Uncle Jackson said.
Eyes wide with surprise, Kara turned to Wyatt. “Your mother has a Faberge egg?”
“It’s been in my family for years,” his mother volunteered. “My grandfather bought the egg for his bride during their honeymoon trip to Europe. I’ll be happy to show it to you after dinner if you’d like.”
“I’d love to see it.” Kara’s eyes twinkled. “Was that one of the grandfathers who was christened with his mother's maiden name?”
“Yes, Winslow Wyatt, and his wife, Ruth Ann Mercer. Their son, Mercer, was our father,” Jackson answered. “Wyatt’s told you about our peculiarity for family names, has he?”
“Yes, it’s an interesting custom fairly common in the south, isn’t it?”
“Kara worries that not every surname would adapt well.” Wyatt remembered her reference to Frumkins and Pifflemeisters.
“I always thought Ashford would work beautifully as a first name,” Chloe supplied with a pout.
“Are you worried that Enderley doesn’t live up to the tradition?” Rosalie inquired of Kara.
Wyatt frowned at the turn the discussion had taken. Ready to guide the table into safer conversational waters, he found it unnecessary when Uncle Jackson jumped in.
“Enderley.” He squinted at the ceiling as though something there would spark his memory. “That name sounds familiar. Have you ever worked for Wyatt Enterprises, Kara?”
“No, sir,” she said sweetly, before turning to answer the previous question. “Enderley is my married name, ma’am.”
“You’re divorced?” His mother appeared taken aback by the information.
“No, ma’am.” Kara paused to sip her ice water. “My maiden name is Sherman.”
Reactions varied around the table. The older generation seemed to be stunned, but Allie, Buck, Chase, and Chloe, like Wyatt, all bit back smiles.
“You’re not descended from that general who ruined the South, are you?” Rosalie demanded.
“I doubt it,” Kara said. “Grandfather Sherman emigrated from Germany before the second World War. He married a girl from Nebraska, but died soon after my father was born, so we don’t know much about that side of the family.”
“We can trace the Wyatt family back to the early 1800s.” Rosalie delicately dabbed her lips with a cloth napkin.
“How nice for you,” Kara said, placing her fork on her plate.
Wyatt didn’t intend to let his mother don her cloak of Southern aristocracy. “That’s true. The first Wyatt that came over from Ireland left there in a hurry, didn’t he, Mother? Kind of a rascal with an unusual occupation. What was it again? Pickpocket? Forger? Something like that.”
Rosalie’ complexion paled. “None of that was ever confirmed. And whatever his faults, he made a fresh start of it here in Georgia and became quite successful.”
Talk generalized again for a few moments until his mother suggested they move to the parlor for coffee and dessert.
Returning to the parlor from the powder room, Kara happened to eavesdrop on an awkward conversation between Wyatt and his nephew. Not only was she interested in hearing how Wyatt handled the situation, she also welcomed having a few moments to herself. When her every move wouldn't be scrutinized by all the Wyatts and Wyatt-wannabees. Wyatt had deflected the direct attacks, but she was beginning to feel a little battle-weary nevertheless. And she didn't welcome the idea of returning to the parlor without him.
Seeing Wyatt in his own element was a revelation she wouldn’t have missed. His home and background were clearly the source of the self-confidence and assurance he carried around with him as unconsciously as Kara carried a purse.
Wyatt knew who he was and where he came from. And that knowledge, along with good looks, intelligence, and wealth had been served up to him on a silver platter at birth.
He might profess annoyance about the repayment his birthright demanded, but h
e relied on the benefits more than he realized.
Glancing up from his conversation with Xander, he acknowledged her presence with a nod. Her heart thumped erratically in response to the pleasure that leaped to his eyes at the sight of her. He took leave of his nephew with a suggestion that the two of them get together in the coming weeks. Following Xander’s indifferent agreement, Wyatt removed a flask from the desk drawer and slipped it into his coat pocket.
“He’s a tough little guy, isn’t he?” She linked her fingers through Wyatt’s.
“Too tough for me.” Wyatt opened an exterior door, guiding Kara onto a terrace overlooking the swimming pool. “You were right about him,” he said as they strolled in the moonlight. “I had no idea how troubled a boy that age can be.”
She tried to read his eyes in the shadows. “How can you be a teacher and understand so little about teenagers?”
“I teach at the college level,” he explained, “because eighteen is the age of reason. Younger than that, and they seldom have an original thought in their heads.”
Kara drew in a deep breath. Everywhere she'd been in Georgia, there had been an underlying floral fragrance. These lush gardens and grounds were no exception. She tried to identify some of the scents. Magnolia, and jasmine, definitely. Honeysuckle, perhaps.
“How are you holding up?” Wyatt draped an arm around her shoulder. “Is Mother getting to you?”
“Not really. I understand what she’s doing. Not why, but that’s okay. After I leave on Sunday, I won’t ever have to see her again.”
Before they reached the front doors leading into the house he took Kara into his arms and pressed a kiss on her lips. “I’ve been wanting to do that for hours.” His hands stroked down her back to her hips then moved even lower.
Despite the little flutter that encouraged her to continue, Kara forced herself to step away from him. “Stop that.” She had to pretend outrage or end up melting in his arms. “You don’t want to be caught with your hands down my dress by your mother, do you?”