“Will either of your parents be there?”
“Not Mom. She doesn’t set foot at The Tides. Dad will probably be there, though.”
“Your parents don’t get along, then?” Lucy was saddened at the thought of Bryan and his brother growing up with two feuding parents. Scarlet had let it slip that Bryan’s parents had split when he was about twelve.
“Oh, no, actually they get along fine. It’s Patrick my mom can’t stand.”
“Your grandfather?”
He nodded. “I don’t think she’s spoken to him since I was a kid. She’s kept in touch with my aunt Karen, but no one else in the family.”
“Why the feud?” Lucy wanted to know.
Bryan shrugged. “She never said, but I think she blames Granddad for the divorce somehow. Like I said, he is controlling. And when I was—Well, you don’t want to hear all that.”
“I do, really. Unless you’d rather not.”
He continued only reluctantly. “When I was a kid, I had to have an operation—the kind our insurance wouldn’t pay for because it was considered experimental. Granddad paid for it—and I’ll be forever grateful to him, because it saved my life, literally. But I think he felt my parents owed him after that, and he used that debt to keep them under his thumb. Ultimately, I think that’s what caused the divorce.”
Bryan looked so sad, almost shattered, that Lucy reached over and laid her hand on his arm. “Surely you don’t blame yourself. You were just a little boy. You had no control over a health problem.”
“I know. But the fact remains, if I hadn’t gotten sick, our lives would have been a lot different.”
“And maybe you wouldn’t have pushed yourself to become a super athlete, and you wouldn’t have been recruited by the CIA, and you wouldn’t have been assigned to my case, and whoever was watching me would have killed me. You can’t play the what-if game. It’s silly.”
He looked over at her and smiled. “You’re an amazing woman, Lucy Miller.” He took her hand and squeezed it, then didn’t let it go.
“Lindsay Morgan.” She felt the warmth of his touch all the way to her heart. If it felt this fantastic when he touched her hand, what would it be like if he touched her other places?
Don’t go there.
He only released her hand when he had to shift gears, downshifting as he reached their destination.
The Elliott home was in the Hamptons, where else? Lucy had been to the Hamptons a few times for some wild parties, so she thought she knew what to expect. But The Tides, as it was called, shocked her nonetheless. The turn-of-the-century mansion—no other word for it—was perched on a cliff above the shore. To get to it, Bryan turned his Jaguar down a private drive, where a guard waved him through.
“A gated community,” Lucy said. “Nice.”
“Not a community. Just one house.”
“You mean that security guard sits there all the time to guard just one house?”
“That’s right.”
Lucy thought she’d seen wealth and opulence, but she was afraid her preconceived notions hadn’t prepared her for the Elliott estate. As the perfectly manicured grounds passed by outside the car window, she wondered how she would measure up. Designer clothes and a chic haircut didn’t change the fact she was a farm girl from Kansas.
The house up close was even more impressive than from a distance. The rusty sandstone monolith came into view as they rounded the last corner and drove onto the circular drive, and it literally took Lucy’s breath away. The high, peaked roof was gray slate, and there were so many gables and turrets and cupolas and multipaned windows that Lucy’s head spun.
“Wow.”
Bryan laughed. “I loved this place growing up. Always so full of activity, laughing, fighting. Granddad has talked about downsizing now that it’s just the two of them most of the time, but I doubt they’ll ever do it. Gram loves this place too much. She says the grounds remind her of Ireland.”
Other cars had already arrived. Bryan parked and came around to open Lucy’s door, but she was already out of the car by the time he arrived. Again he offered her his arm. “Remember, we’re smitten.”
As if she had to struggle too hard. They walked up the brick stairs to the porch. Not standing on ceremony, Bryan opened the door and ushered her inside a marble foyer with a crystal chandelier twenty people could have swung from. Straight ahead was a formal living room; to the right, Lucy glimpsed a dining room with a massive table already set with linens, china, crystal.
Despite the luxury, the house exuded a welcoming warmth. Elegant and understated, the decor didn’t scream professional decorator. Instead Lucy was willing to bet the lady of the house had decorated it herself. There were family photos and knickknacks everywhere, arranged in attractive groupings. The furniture, while upholstered in stylish colors, appeared to have been chosen for comfort and sturdiness.
A group was already seated in the living room, and the murmured conversation stopped the moment Bryan and Lucy entered. They all looked expectantly at the newcomers.
“Bryan.” A handsome man in his forties bounded up and approached Bryan with a hearty handshake. He looked too young to be Bryan’s father, but with the physical likeness between the two men, they couldn’t be anything but father and son.
He focused on Lucy. “And you must be Lindsay. I’m Daniel Elliott, Bryan’s father.”
They shook hands. “I guessed as much.”
“Everyone,” Bryan said, “this is Lindsay Morgan. I would appreciate it if you didn’t scare her to death. Remember, the Elliotts en masse can be a trifle intimidating.”
Lucy was introduced to each Elliott in turn. His brother, Cullen, was easy to remember, because he looked enough like Bryan to be a twin. Cullen’s wife, Misty, was also memorable, mostly because she was close to six feet tall, pregnant and amazingly gorgeous.
Scarlet she knew, of course, but now she met her fiancé, John Harlan, an ad exec. And Scarlet’s twin sister, Summer, who was a carbon copy, if a tad less flamboyant. Summer’s fiancé, Zeke Woodlow, made a definite impression. Who could forget him? He was a rock star, and a golden god of a man even when he wasn’t assuming his stage persona. He and Summer were on a break from touring, Summer explained, while she and her twin planned their double wedding.
But after a while, the names and faces began to blur. Trying to remember her cover story and commit names to memory proved too much for Lucy’s little brain. It wouldn’t matter in the long run, she told herself. In a matter of weeks she would be gone, hardly a blip on the collective memory of the Elliott clan.
But it did matter. She wanted the Elliotts to like her. She wanted to be a positive reflection on Bryan.
Finally Bryan’s grandparents appeared. Lucy had never met a more intimidating man than Patrick Elliott. Though well into his seventies, he was still strong and vital, and it was clear his word was law around here.
“So you’re the new girlfriend,” he said, giving her a once-over as if she were a horse he’d bought at auction.
Bryan made polite introductions, but Patrick didn’t do anything so modern as shake Lucy’s hand. He nodded brusquely.
“Don’t mind him,” said Maeve, Bryan’s grandmother. She was a petite woman and still a beauty. Her mostly white hair, piled up on her head in an elegant upsweep, carried traces of auburn, and her nose bore a sprinkling of pale freckles. Her green eyes were sharp as a bird’s and missed nothing. “He’s a gruff old goat, but deep down he’s a charmer. Welcome to The Tides, Lindsay.”
Maeve grasped both Lucy’s hands and squeezed them, and Lucy instantly fell in love with the woman. She was just adorable.
Though Lucy quickly ceased to be the center of attention, she could sense the Elliotts watching her at various times. When others arrived—Bryan’s uncle Shane and his cousin Teagan and Teagan’s fiancée, Renee—conversations broke into small groups, and the talk focused on the magazines. Which was only natural, since almost all of them worked for EPH.
Even
an outsider could see the tensions. Those who worked for the same magazine flocked together, sometimes with heads bent low. Sometimes voices were raised, then boisterous laughter would break out, a spontaneous hug here and there.
Lucy wasn’t used to any family showing their feelings so freely. In the home where she’d grown up, she’d been taught to keep emotions in check. Voices were never raised, laughter seldom heard. And hugging? Forget it.
No wonder Lucy had rebelled so far in the other direction, allowing her life to get about as messy as one could get.
“Let me refill that wine, Lindsay,” Daniel said. “Which one were you drinking?”
“Uh, red?”
“Burgundy? Or was it the pinot noir?”
Lucy felt sure she should know the difference, but she didn’t. Her parents hadn’t allowed alcohol in their house, and In Tight had leaned toward beer and the hard stuff.
At her clueless expression, Daniel took her elbow and led her to the bar, where several bottles were lined up. “This is the burgundy,” he said, “a particularly nice one from Australia. The pinot noir is a Chilean variety. Dry, but with a hint of floral and oak.” He smiled at her. “Pretend you’re interested in my boring dissertation on wine, okay? Make me look good.”
Lucy laughed. “I am interested. I just don’t know much about wine. I think I drank from the bottle with the green label.”
He picked up the bottle and refilled her glass. “Actually, I have an ulterior motive in cutting you out from the herd. I wanted to have a private word with you.”
Uh-oh, here it comes, Lucy thought, tamping down her panic. Bryan’s father had picked up on something out of kilter. She’d blown it.
“I’m very worried about Bryan. He’s been traveling so much lately. And when he showed up for his brother’s wedding here in May, he had a split lip and a limp. He claimed he was in a car accident, but his car didn’t have a scratch on it.”
This was all news to Lucy. She looked up at him blankly.
“You mean, you don’t know?”
“We haven’t been dating for long,” she said, her voice shaking with nerves. “It’s been a real whirlwind. I still have so much to learn about Bryan. He hasn’t mentioned any car accident.” All of which was true.
“I feel like he’s hiding something. And I’m not just being a paranoid dad. His mother is worried, too. And Cullen. We all feel like he’s not being honest with us. Maybe trying to protect us.”
Oh, dear. How was she supposed to respond to that?
She wanted to tell Daniel not to worry, but in good conscience, she couldn’t. Bryan was in danger almost all the time. She wanted to reassure Daniel that Bryan wasn’t involved in something nefarious, that he wasn’t embroiled in trouble. She couldn’t do that, either.
“Bryan is a very private person,” she finally said.
“But what was he doing in France? Surely it couldn’t take weeks and weeks to swap recipes.”
Bryan had told her to stick to the truth as much as possible. But she knew nothing about what he did in France. She shrugged helplessly. “He was meeting with all kinds of people.”
“You mean like chefs and restaurant managers and spice dealers?”
And terrorists and spies. She nodded.
“Well, maybe there’s more to running a restaurant than I thought. Maybe now that he has a girlfriend, he’ll stay home more. You’ll take good care of him, won’t you?”
“More like he’s taking good care of me.”
Six
Dinner was the typical five-course extravaganza. Though the Elliotts had a chef come in even for their family dinners, Maeve was a fine cook in her own right and couldn’t resist dabbling in the kitchen. The meal tonight was vichyssoise, followed by a field-green salad, braised salmon, beef tips with fresh asparagus, and fudge-caramel mousse.
“What do you think, Bryan, love?” Maeve asked. “Up to your standards?”
“Gram, you know even Une Nuit can’t compete with the dinners you serve here,” he said diplomatically. He’d enjoyed the dinner but he’d spent most of his time watching Lucy, who was so nervous she could hardly swallow. She was doing a spectacular job posing as Lindsay. She’d often shot him nervous but affectionate looks throughout the evening, and a couple of times she’d sought him out and taken his hand.
He had to admit, the feel of her smooth little hand in his had stirred something inside him until it was becoming increasingly difficult to separate fact from fiction. But that was the general idea when working a cover story. Live it, believe it, and you could be convincing.
But was he living it a little too much? He certainly had no problem doting on “Lindsay.” He even stole the cherry from the top of the mousse and presented it to her, which started a boisterous argument among the cousins. When they’d been kids, they’d always fought over the cherry until Maeve had been forced to go to the kitchen and bring out the jar of maraschinos, giving each of her grandkids one.
“So,” Patrick said, “where is your twin sister this evening, Shane?”
“Why are you asking me?” said Shane, who was editor in chief of The Buzz. “You know Fin. She’s eating and sleeping at Charisma these days, she’s so obsessed with this competition.”
The others at the table agreed. This was one of those times Bryan was truly grateful not to be in the magazine business. He didn’t like this competition among his aunt, uncles and cousins for control of EPH. He had no idea what his grandfather’s goal had been in setting up the contest, but surely it wasn’t to put them all at each other’s throats.
“No need to criticize,” said Scarlet, sticking up for her boss. “Aunt Finny is devoted, that’s all. She truly cares about Charisma.”
“Oh, and I don’t care about The Buzz?” Shane shot back.
“I didn’t say that.”
More arguments broke out after that. Bryan leaned back and folded his arms, rather enjoying the melee. The things some people thought were important.
Lucy interrupted his amusement. “Excuse me,” she said quietly to him. “I’ll be back.”
He thought she’d just gone to the powder room, but when she hadn’t returned in ten minutes, he started to worry. Maeve had brought out the dessert, and Lucy’s sat untouched.
Realistically, Bryan knew nothing could happen to Lucy while she was at The Tides. The place was safe as Fort Knox. But her absence made him uneasy, and he excused himself to go look for her.
The downstairs guest bath door was open, the light off. If she’d ever been there, she wasn’t there now.
He wandered all around the first floor, thinking maybe she’d gotten distracted by his grandparents’ artwork or knickknacks, some of which were museum quality. But she was nowhere.
Surely she hadn’t gone upstairs. Unless she’d felt ill and wanted to lie down. But wouldn’t she have said something to him?
He checked upstairs and still didn’t find her. Now he was truly worried.
He returned to the dining room. Her chair remained empty.
“Bryan?” his grandmother inquired. “Something wrong?”
“I seem to have lost my girlfriend.”
“We probably upset her with all our arguing,” Scarlet said. “Bryan was right when he said we could be scary.”
Scary, maybe, but his family stuck together in a crisis. And though this didn’t exactly qualify as a crisis yet, the others didn’t hesitate to put down their dessert spoons, push back from the table and go in search of Bryan’s lost date.
He found her a couple of minutes later. Theorizing that she might have stepped outside for a breath of fresh air, he went out to the patio, then to the steps that had been carved out of the cliff leading down to the private beach. He spotted a solitary figure, standing on the sand below looking out to sea, and his whole body relaxed with relief.
He stepped back inside to let the others know he’d found her. Then he went down to the beach.
She didn’t hear him over the waves until he was almost upon her. S
he turned, startled, and her cheeks were wet with tears.
“Lucy, what on earth is wrong?”
She swiped at one cheek with the back of her hand and laughed self-consciously. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I only intended to step outside for a minute. My head was spinning. I shouldn’t have had that third glass of wine.”
“It’s us who should be apologizing, arguing like that when we have guests. I’m sorry if we upset you.”
She laid a hand on his arm. “I didn’t mind the arguing. That’s not it.”
“Then what is it?” he asked, bewildered. But then again, most women bewildered him. They were such complex creatures.
“I was just thinking how fun it would be to belong to a big, boisterous family like the Elliotts. And that got me to thinking about my family. We don’t fight, true, but that’s because we hardly ever talk. And of all stupid things, I sort of started to miss my parents. And I started thinking, if I don’t make it through this—”
“Make it through?” He couldn’t help it, he had to interrupt. “Lucy, you’ll make it through. It may take time, but look at the progress we’ve made already.”
“I told you I was being silly.”
“I know this thing has turned your life upside down. I admire the fact you were brave enough to take on embezzlers and terrorists. Not everyone would do that.”
She shrugged.
“I’ll get you back home to your normal life as soon as possible,” he said, though he didn’t look forward to pushing her out of his life. But that was inevitable. Tempted though he was, he couldn’t allow Lucy or any woman to get close to him. It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t safe.
“It certainly hasn’t been all bad,” she said with a sniff. The ocean breeze had all but dried her tears. “At home I don’t get to dress like this or have dinner at a gazillion-dollar mansion or meet publishing luminaries.”
“Publishing luminaries with bad manners,” Bryan added with a rueful laugh. “Ah, Lucy, you’re a good sport.”
He gave her a spontaneous hug, which he’d intended to be brief and brotherly. Instead, Lucy put her arms around him and hugged him back, hard, pressing her luscious body against his.
Dynasties:The Elliots, Books 7-12 Page 7