Winning Wyatt (The Billionaire Brotherhood Book 1)

by Floyd, Jacie

  Wrapping an arm around Kara’s waist, he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I learned some of my best techniques in the pool house. Want to see?”

  “I don’t want to hear any more about your previous conquests than I’ve already heard.” She ruined the statement by adding with a wink, “Maybe we can come back out after while and you can demonstrate.”

  The scene inside the parlor depicted Kara’s impression of Southern living at its finest. Chloe and Chase sat side by side on the piano bench, with Rosalie and Chase's mother nearby. A statuesque woman with an intricate coronet of salt and pepper braids circulated the room with a dessert tray. The friendly smile she flashed Wyatt confirmed Kara’s assumption that she was Izzy. Jonah mixed drinks at the bar.

  Wyatt steered Kara over to meet the cook. With an arm around both women, he introduced them. Izzy’s coffee-colored face beamed with pleasure, but she sent them to be seated while she brought them each slices of the pie Wyatt raved about.

  Kara sampled a bite and had a hard time refraining from smacking her lips. “Just like Wyatt said, this is the best lemon meringue pie I've ever tasted.”

  “Mr. Wyatt's partial to that recipe.” Izzy stood straighter and beamed from the compliment. “I always make his favorites when he’s home.”

  “Don’t spoil him, Izzy.” Jackson Wyatt took the chair on Kara’s other side. “He’s not here often enough to truly appreciate you. If you want to be baking extra pies, you just send them over to my house.”

  Izzy laughed and promised to do just that before she resumed her duties. Kara was sandwiched between Wyatt and his uncle, who proceeded to talk around her while she consumed her dessert and quelled an unladylike desire to lick her plate.

  Jackson sipped bourbon from a heavy crystal glass. “I know you said you’d go to Charlotte with your mother on Monday, but before you leave, I really would like your help with that problem at National.”

  “I’ll fit it in as soon as I can, Uncle Jack.”

  “I didn’t know you participated this much in your family’s business,” Kara said to Wyatt.

  “Not in the day-to-day details,” Jackson answered, “but he has a keen business sense and such a diplomatic manner of speaking that he can persuade just about anyone to do as he pleases without them ever realizing they’ve been handled by a master.”

  “I’ve noticed that about him.”

  “And you know, he hates having people talk about him like he's one of the paintings on the wall,” Wyatt complained.

  Wyatt gave Kara an intimate smile and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His touch lingered against her skin, making her a clear promise for later. “I thought you had that trucking problem all smoothed over,” he said to his uncle.

  “I want to be sure it’s fixed good and proper, not just patched up. We’ll be in a pickle if the whole mess breaks open again next year when it’s time for their contract negotiations.”

  “Who’s the spokesperson for the truckers?”

  “Sal Farley, remember him? He’s a good man, but he’s threatening us with labor problems that can shut NPD down for months if we're not careful.”

  Kara set her plate down sharply. The lemon flavoring on her tongue turned bitter at the mention of the hated company. “NPD?”

  “National Package Delivery,” Jackson said. “You know, the parcel delivery company with the blue-and-white trucks?”

  To keep her hands from shaking, she clasped them in her lap. “But, wh-what—?” Her throat closed, and she had to start over. “What does NPD have to do with you, Wyatt?”

  “We own it.” He reached for her hand, but she pulled away. “Are you all right?”

  Her vision started to fade around the edges. She jumped to her feet, but her knees wouldn’t cooperate, and she collapsed back onto the seat. Shrinking from the arm Wyatt placed around her, Kara looked wildly about the room, searching for a helping hand that didn’t belong to a Wyatt or a Maitland. Allie and Buck came to hover in front of her.

  “Can I get you something, Kara?” Allie asked.

  Lightheaded now, all Kara could think about was getting out of the enemy's camp. “I need to leave.”

  “What is it, Wyatt?” Rosalie demanded from across the room.

  “Kara isn’t feeling well, Mother.”

  “Was it something she ate?” Chloe asked. “I hope it wasn’t the crab puffs. I had three of those.”

  Buck knelt at her side and placed a hand on her neck. “Put your head between your knees.”

  “Will you get me out of here?” she whispered while her head dangled upside down.

  “Sure,” he answered, puzzled but agreeable.

  As she tried to stand, her knees crumpled again. Buck caught her and lifted her up.

  “What are you doing?” Allie and Wyatt both demanded.

  “She asked me to get her out of here.” Buck held her in his arms with the ease of a man who rescued fainting damsels every day.

  “Give her to me,” Wyatt insisted.

  “No,” Kara objected. “Don’t.”

  Buck gave her an apologetic shrug before handing her over.

  She shrank from Wyatt’s touch. “Put me down.”

  “Can you stand on your own?”

  She could. She’d make herself. “Just put me down.”

  Wyatt slowly lowered her legs, retaining as much of her weight as he could with his grip on her shoulders. She was quite possibly over-reacting, but she was smothering in an avalanche of emotion. She didn’t want his help. She didn’t want him to touch her.

  Ever again.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I want to leave now.” Her mind began to fog, and darkness crowded in on her. She struggled to retain control, but tragic memories slammed relentlessly into her. The sooner she could get away, the better.

  “All right.” Wyatt’s voice came to her from far, far away. “But you're as white as a sheet.”

  The next thing she knew, she was stretched out on a strange bed in an unfamiliar room. Her shoes were gone. A cold cloth draped her forehead. Dim light and absolute quiet surrounded her, but she knew before she turned her head that she would find Wyatt sitting there beside her. Watching her. Her eyelids slammed shut, automatically rejecting the sight of him. He reached for her hand.

  She jerked her hand away and turned her face to the wall. “Please, don't touch me. I can’t stand it.”

  “What is it, Kara?” His words gentled with his concern for her. Taking her chin in his hand he turned it so he could see her. “What’s happened in the last few minutes to make you dislike me so?”

  “I just realized.” Tears streamed down her face. “You’re responsible for Mike’s and Adam’s deaths.”

  The accusation rocked Wyatt backward. Of all the things he had considered, that one came out of the blue. “I’m what?”

  “Responsible for the death of Mike and Adam.”

  For the second time that night, he was uncertain what to do or say. Wyatt tried to recall the details about her family’s fatal accident. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “Kara, you’re not making sense. You told me they were killed in an accident.”

  “They were.”

  He placed a hand on each side of her head and leaned in toward her. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been to Indiana.”

  She placed her hands over her face, as if unable to bear the sight of him. Wyatt couldn’t remain idle while such intense pain ravaged her. He lay down beside her and pulled her into his arms, offering solace the only way he knew how. She strained against him at first, but with gentle words and soothing hands, he stroked her until she quieted.

  “Tell me what this is about, Kara mia, so I can help you.”

  “You can’t help me.” Her eyes were wild, desperate as she looked at him, and then away. He pushed her hair back from her face and wiped her damp cheeks with a corner of the

  sheet. “Just tell me.”

  She closed her eyes as if that would help her gather her strength. “A truck
smashed through the guardrail of an exit ramp on the interstate and plowed into Mike and Adam on the road below. A National Package Delivery truck.”

  Nothing she could have said would have been less welcome. He wanted to deny it, to defend his family, but she wasn’t ready to listen to logic. Still, the connection between him and the accident seemed so far-removed. He had so little to do with the delivery service. “And you blame us for it? My family? Me?”

  She did. Of course, she did. No amount of logic would penetrate her emotional state at the moment. Someone had to be blamed. He could see it in her eyes. Weakly, she pushed against his shoulders to gain her release. “I want to go home now.”

  A light tap sounded on the door. Wyatt went to open it while Kara sat up and put on her shoes.

  “How is she?” Allie asked.

  “Better.” Now wasn’t the time for details.

  “What can I do?”

  “She wants to leave. If you'll give us a few minutes to slip out the back and then explain to Mother, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Doc Wilson is on his way. Are you sure she shouldn’t see him first?”

  “Thanks, Allie, but no,”

  “I just want to leave,” Kara said from the bed.

  “Then let’s go.” Wyatt turned and reached for her, but she tugged away. With a sigh, he gestured her out ahead of him.

  Her silence as they returned to the hotel conveyed a clearer message than most speeches.

  In their suite, she went straight to the bedroom and retrieved her luggage. Without facing him, she began packing her clothes. Wyatt watched from the doorway, once again, at a loss.

  “What are you doing?”

  Her spine stiffened. She rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms as if her blood had stopped circulating and she had to stimulate it manually. “I’m leaving.”

  Leaning against the door with his hands in his pockets, he shook his head. “We need to talk first.”

  “And say what?” With erratic jerks, she moved around the room, from one object to another, lifting things, replacing them, tossing them aside. She reminded him of a small tornado creating chaos in its wake and veering off-course without warning. “That your family owns NPD, but bears no culpability for the actions of its employees? That the settlement your family gave me absolves them from guilt? That you weren’t the one driving the truck so it's not your fault?” She scooped an armload of lotions and gels from the sink in the bathroom and dropped them in the suitcase with a clatter. “Well, guess what? I know all those things, but they don’t make me feel a damn bit better.”

  Suddenly out of steam, she collapsed into a heap on the floor. More quietly, she continued, “It always seemed like there should be someone to blame. I blamed Mike for not being more cautious, for not taking better care of Adam. I blamed God for the weather. I blamed myself for not picking up Adam. But most of all, I focused the blame on NPD and the driver.”

  Folding her arms across her knees, she dropped her forehead onto them. “He’d had a beer at lunch, maybe more than one. How much did that hinder his judgment? What kind of company would allow a drunk driver to make deliveries? Maybe the kind that insists schedules be met despite hazardous weather conditions. Or the kind that would fail to properly maintain their trucks.”

  Her arms covered her face, but didn’t muffle her bitterness. “I can’t put this anger and resentment behind me just because we’ve had amazing sex.”

  “Kara...” Wyatt knelt beside her and pulled her into his arms, despite her stiff resistance. “I’m so sorry. I’ll find out the answers to your questions as soon as I can, but we both know nothing I do or say will ever be enough.”

  They looked at one another, and Wyatt saw the painful truth in her eyes. The sadness and despair acknowledged how much they’d lost during the course of the evening. A loss that left no room for forgiveness. Wiping her eyes and sniffling, she moved away from him. “I can’t stay here with you.”

  “I’ll sleep in the other room.” He would give her as much time and space as she needed. “If you still want to leave in the morning, I’ll make the arrangements.”

  Kara nodded, rose, and went into the bathroom. Wyatt found extra pillows in the closet. No point in calling housekeeping to convert the couch into a bed. He didn’t expect to sleep.

  Early the next morning, Wyatt watched Kara sleep fitfully in the middle of the king-sized bed. He doubted if she’d welcome his comfort, but he sat beside her and patted her back until she quieted, and unknowingly, curled her body toward him.

  With every fiber of his being, he wanted to stay with her, to erase her pain, to be there for her when she awoke. But he couldn’t bear to see that awful look of accusation on her face again. He straightened her covers and eased away from her, returning to the next room.

  Less than an hour later, Kara stepped tentatively into the sitting room, wearing a long cotton T-shirt. Purple smudges under her eyes gave her the damaged look of a bruised pansy.

  “Did you sleep?” He set aside his laptop, where every article he’d read had jumbled together.

  Her hair floated in an unrestrained mass around her face. She reached up to shove it out of her way. “Not much. You?”

  “Not at all.” He groped for a way to close the breech between them, but nothing special came to mind. “Would you like breakfast?”

  “No, thank you.” Her voice sounded as controlled and impersonal as a computerized recording. “I just want to—”

  “—leave,” he finished for her. “So you keep saying. I hoped you’d feel differently this morning.”

  “I don’t.”

  He slumped back, feeling helpless. Defeated by her stubbornness and unwilling to add to her pain. “If you’re so determined to leave, I'll have the corporate jet prepared to take you whenever you’re ready.”

  Her mouth curled in distaste. “I’ll go to the airport and wait until I can get a flight. I don’t want to ride on an NPD plane or accept any further favors from you.”

  “When did you ever want to?” She asked him for less than any woman he’d ever known. “I brought you here, I’ll see you get home. At least let me do that much.”

  “To ease your conscience?”

  “My conscience is clear,” he returned evenly. “I’m just trying to make this easier for you.”

  “Nothing about this will ever be easy.” Her gray eyes turned stormy. “I just want to put it behind me and forget it ever happened.”

  Her words cut him like a knife. “Do you really want to put me and everything we’ve shared behind you? You once said I gave you your life back.”

  “I didn’t know!” She flinched with the hollow-eyed look of someone who'd been betrayed one time too many. “You’re the one who took it away.”

  “You don’t believe that.”

  “In my head, I don’t. In my heart, I do. Remembering the last few months makes me feel like I’ve been sleeping with the enemy. I’m sorry, but I can’t be with you anymore.”

  The future he had envisioned of bringing Kara for long stays in California, visiting her in New York, and meeting her for weekend getaways anyplace in between crumbled like one of Izzy’s pie crusts. As she walked away from him, he grabbed her arm and turned her to face him.

  “Let me ask you one question. Did you file suit against NPD at the time of the accident?”

  She tried to shrug away from him. “Why would I have done that? For more money? I couldn’t deal with reliving it through legal proceedings that would drag on for months, maybe years. In the end, Mike and Adam would still be dead, the wounds would still be fresh, and I would still be alone.”

  “Don’t you know by now that hiding from something doesn’t end it?” He took her chin in his hand to make sure she heard each word. “I’ll look at NPD's records and find out if there’s any truth to your accusations. For good or bad, I’ll call you when I know what occurred. Maybe when you’ve had time to think, you’ll see things differently. Or at least be able to separate the past f
rom the present.”

  The anguish in her eyes cut him to the quick. She wrenched away. “Why don’t you just let me go?”

  “Letting you go whenever you want was always part of the deal, Kara mia. But we agreed there wouldn’t be any regrets or recriminations between us.” He shook his head sadly. “And now that’s all you have left.”

  Four weeks later, Kara sat on her bathroom floor, forcibly recalling what the term “morning sickness” meant. Holding the home pregnancy test indicator closer to the window, she turned it this way and that for a different view. But no matter how she looked at it, the display revealed a positive reading.

  Feelings of sadness and confusion battled with her initial reactions of jubilation and anticipation. Her head and heart hurt from trying to sort out her contradictory moods. Well, okay, welcome to the world of irrational hormonal mood swings.

  The one person she wanted to be with while she put her jumbled emotions into order was the one person who shared responsibility for them. And that she most fiercely didn’t want to see. Oh, she wanted to see him, all right. And to talk to him. And be comforted by him. But she couldn’t. Not yet. Not until she was ready to tell him about the baby.

  As luck would have it, Wyatt reappeared long before she was ready to face him. When she returned from some errands that afternoon, a town car and driver lurked on the street outside her building.

  Uncharacteristically rumpled and extremely gorgeous, Wyatt slouched in the doorway. Damn him. Her heart fluttered at the sight, but she kept her face impassive and just barely managed to refrain from flinging herself into his arms.

  She stopped several feet away from him and crossed her arms instead. “Why are you here? I asked you not to do this.”

  He reached out to her like it was his right to touch her at will. But when she evaded his hands, he merely held up a thumb drive. “I brought you something. Can we go inside or would you rather go someplace else to view it?” He pointed to a briefcase at his feet. “I’ve got a laptop with me.”

  Tough choice. Fearing she would end up sobbing her heart out in public, she didn’t trust what might happen between them if they were alone in her apartment either. Normally, they stripped down and were in bed together within moments of meeting.