“I’m homesick.”
“Really?”
Summer laughed. “No. Well, kind of. Zeke’s got a meeting in New York on the twenty-ninth. This is not for public broadcast yet, but he’s going to do the music and lyrics for a rock musical.”
“Good for him!”
“We think so, too, especially since it means we’d get to live close to home.”
“You’re going to live together?” Scarlet had assumed they would, but having it confirmed—
“Well, yes. What did you think?”
“Are you coming back to work?” She recalled her grandfather assuming Summer wouldn’t return to the job, and had wondered, herself.
“I don’t know yet. I’m still figuring things out. Scar?”
“What?”
“You’ve seemed really distracted every time I’ve talked to you. This whole month. Longer than that, even. What’s going on?”
“Nothing worth talking about.”
Static crackled in the silence. “When I get home, we’ll catch up. When I can see your face, I’ll know whether there’s something I should know.”
She was right, of course. Nothing Scarlet could say or do would prevent Summer from seeing into her soul—her broken heart at that point, since her relationship with John would have ended.
“Are you planning your wedding yet?” Scarlet asked, changing the subject.
“Not yet. We don’t feel we need to hurry. Maybe at Christmas.”
“You’ll want the fairy tale, I think. It takes time to plan.”
“You’ll design my dress, won’t you?”
Scarlet smiled. “I already have.”
Summer’s voice softened. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Scarlet managed to say before her throat swelled shut.
“See you soon.”
“Okay. ’Bye.”
Scarlet could never do anything to alienate her sister. Watching Fin tonight with Gram and Granddad settled that in Scarlet’s mind. Family came first. Always and forever.
There would be another man to love someday, she told herself as she turned off her bedside lamp.
Then she lay there in the dark, alone, denying herself the luxury of tears.
Eleven
As director of sales for Snap, the celebrity-watcher magazine of the EPH empire, Cullen Elliott had worked closely with John for several years. Almost the same age, they also had a friendship unrelated to the business, having known each other longer than John had known Summer and Scarlet. The men golfed together. Challenged each other. Wagered with each other, too. John liked Cullen and was glad the friendship hadn’t been strained when the engagement ended.
“I can’t believe you beat me by thirteen strokes,” Cullen muttered as they rode the elevator to John’s apartment late Saturday afternoon after a long day golfing. “How long has it been since you played?”
John smiled leisurely. “I told you. The last time you and I played. October, I think.”
“You didn’t squeeze in a round or two while you were in L.A. last month?”
“Nope. But conditions weren’t the best today.”
“Don’t be condescending.”
John grinned as they exited the elevator and walked down the hall. Usually a prankster, Cullen had seemed to be forcing jokes all day, so John hesitated before he spoke again, not knowing whether he should discuss what he’d observed.
“You did seem off your game,” he said finally. “And distracted. Woman trouble?”
“Women,” Cullen scoffed. “Sometimes I wonder if they’re worth the effort.”
“Amen.”
“Although I don’t ever question it when I’m in bed with one.”
John laughed. As he opened the door, an incredible scent rushed at him. Garlic. Basil. Something Italian.
Cullen sniffed the air, making appreciative sounds. “I hope I’m staying for dinner.”
Scarlet must be there.
“Sorry, Cullen,” John said, upping his normal volume. “Private party.”
He heard a soft scampering sound and talked over it, hoping Cullen hadn’t noticed. “I’ll get that book you wanted.”
“Don’t I get to meet the chef?”
“I’ll check.” He walked into the kitchen and looked around. A pot of red sauce simmered on the stove, the source of the mouthwatering aroma. A salad was half prepared. And a pair of spiky black heels lay jumbled on the floor.
He heard a noise from the pantry and headed there, opened the door—
“What are you doing with my cousin?” Scarlet asked in a fierce whisper.
She was wearing a French maid’s costume.
John’s shock instantly became laughter.
“It isn’t funny,” she said through clenched teeth.
“From my vantage point it is.” He grabbed and kissed her. “I’ll get rid of him. Cool your jets, sweetheart.”
He shut the pantry door in her face.
“She left a note. Went to the store,” John said to Cullen as he passed through the living room on his way to his office. He grabbed a book from his desk. “Here you go. No hurry getting it back to me.”
“Feels like someone’s shoving a boot against my ass,” Cullen said with a grin, heading to the front door.
“What can I say?” The maid costume stayed emblazoned in his mind. The short, short skirt, revealing long, gorgeous legs in fishnet stockings. The low-cut, lace-edged top, exposing inviting mounds he wanted to bury his face in. He could untie her frilly white apron, strip her to whatever fancy lingerie she wore under—
“I’m glad to see you’ve moved on, you know, since Summer.”
John came to attention. “I’ve become a fatalist.”
“Everything happens for a reason?”
“Something like that.”
Cullen stared out the window for a few seconds. “Have you stopped loving her?”
I don’t think I ever did love her. He didn’t say the words aloud, but their truth hit him like a thousand-watt lightbulb. “As you said, I’ve moved on.”
“Mind over matter?”
The way Cullen pushed the conversation, John recognized there was something going on with him. “You need to talk, Cullen?” They couldn’t now, not with Scarlet trapped in the pantry, but…“We could get together for drinks one day this week.”
“Maybe. I’ll give you a call.” He left.
John returned to the kitchen and opened the pantry door. “Your master awaits.”
She eyed him coolly. “My master?”
“If you’re the maid, that makes me the master, right?” John admired her in full light. He’d never known a woman with so many dimensions. And he’d never known one so playful, so willing to get into a role just for the fun of it.
He was tempted now to untie the lacy cap on her head and let her hair down. He reached for the dangling ribbons—
“Why didn’t you tell me you were golfing with Cullen?”
He lowered his arm, stuffed his hands into his pockets. Obviously she wasn’t into her role yet. “I didn’t want to wake you this morning. You looked so peaceful.”
“You could’ve told me last night before we went to sleep.”
“I could’ve.”
“But?”
“My relationship with Cullen is separate. I don’t relate him with your family, even though he is. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming over early tonight?”
“I didn’t know until after you left your message on my cell, saying to keep the night open for you.” She shrugged. “And I wanted to surprise you.”
“Which you did.” He trailed his fingers down her face, gently, caressingly. “Can I go out and come back in? Start over?”
“First you have to put on your costume.”
“Costume?” He hadn’t minded the other games, but he’d never had to wear a costume before, either.
“It’s on your bed.”
“What exactly am I?”
“You’re a nineteenth
-century duke visiting my master.”
“Did I time-travel forward or did you time-travel back?” he asked, pointing to her modern costume.
She ignored his question. “Do you know how men of your stature were treated in the merry old days?”
“With more respect than today?”
His comment earned him raised eyebrows instead of a laugh, then she hooked a finger behind his belt and pulled him toward her. “When a titled man visited, the lady of the house was often sent to assist him in bathing.”
“I was born in the wrong century.”
Her smile was slow and sultry. “When there wasn’t a lady of the house, often a maid was sent.”
No joke came to mind. “You’re going to…bathe me?”
She dragged his shirt from his waistband and slid her hands up his chest. “I’m going to feed you, then undress you, then bathe you, then have my way with you. And you have to promise not to tell my master, or I could lose my position.”
He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feathery touch of her fingers against his skin, although he was more than a little stunned that she had willingly assumed such a subservient role. Another layer of her. Another fascinating layer.
“I think you should go change now, your grace,” she whispered. “You can wait in the parlor. I’ll bring you some ale to sip while I finish supper.”
He’d rather hang out in the kitchen with her, but he acknowledged that anticipation was an appealing part of the game. He expected to stay aroused until she chose to do something about it.
He just hoped his costume wasn’t too dorky.
The following Friday, Cade McMann, Charisma’s executive editor, stepped into Scarlet’s cubicle just as she was about to head to a meeting. Noting Cade’s distant expression, she said nothing, especially since he’d come to her. Usually he summoned her to his office.
“You seem to have more influence with Fin than anyone,” he said in a low, brusque voice.
“As her niece, not as her employee.”
“I don’t care which role you assume—whatever works, as far as I’m concerned—but she slept in her office again last night. Obviously I want her to win the contest as much as she does. I stand to win, too. But there’s no reason for her to sacrifice everything to it. Someone has to convince her of that.”
“If you can’t settle her down, Cade, I don’t think anyone can.”
“I’ve tried. Short of sending an armed escort to her office to take her home each night, there’s nothing I can do. She’s the boss. But I’m worried about her.”
“So am I.” She tapped a finger to her lips. “Maybe I should talk to Uncle Shane.”
“They may be twins, Scarlet, but they are in competition.”
He was right. “Back to square one.”
“Just talk to her, please. Better yet, kidnap her for the weekend. Take her to a spa.”
This would be her last weekend with John. Summer would be home on Monday. “I can’t this weekend, but I’ll try to arrange it for the following one.”
“Good. Thanks.” He turned to leave and bumped into Jessie.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her eyes widening.
Cade frowned.
Looking a little flustered, she turned to Scarlet. “John Harlan is in the conference room.”
“Thanks, Jessie.”
She hurried away after muttering another “sorry” to Cade.
“She’s always hovering,” he said, watching her leave.
Scarlet picked up a file folder and stood. “What do you mean?”
“Just that. And she’s too eager to please. She volunteers for everything.”
“The way our internship program is set up, she’s allowed to float from department to department if help is needed, or if she wants to be involved in a particular project. She just has to clear it through me.”
“Is she good?”
“She’s a natural. As if she’s had years of experience instead of just having graduated.”
“People said that about you.”
“They did?” She smiled, pleased. She didn’t want to tell the boss to get out of the way, but she did have a meeting to attend. She held up the file. “Is that all for now?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
She was the last to arrive at the conference room, which was populated by most of Charisma’s department heads. She was not in charge of the project, so the discussion was being led by the managing editor and the art director.
Scarlet slipped into a chair. John, flanked by members of his own staff, sat across the table. She met his gaze briefly, saw a smile flicker in his eyes, then she tried to focus on the meeting. An hour and a lot of discussion later, the meeting ended. She had no official reason to approach him, plus he wasn’t alone, anyway.
She’d been waiting all day for him to call and make plans for their last weekend together. He’d had a lunch meeting, so they hadn’t even met at his apartment as they often did. But Summer would be home on Monday. That fact had to be faced.
Scarlet lingered near the conference room in hopes of catching him for a second, but his employees were on his heels and he only got to say a quick goodbye, then he was gone.
Fin was in her office, hunched in front of her computer. Scarlet considered going in and talking to her about getting away next weekend, but decided it didn’t matter when she did that, since Fin probably had no plans to interfere with anyway. Scarlet would need next weekend away even more than Fin. A time to mourn.
She returned to her cubicle. It was almost four o’clock. She and John were bad about making plans, but this was ridiculous. It was their last—
She spotted an envelope on her keyboard, her name printed on it. She opened it, unfolded a sheet of ivory-colored parchment. The note was handwritten:
Good afternoon, Ms. Elliott,
Your mission, should you choose to accept it, will begin at 6:00 p.m. You will be picked up from your home and taken to a secret location, where you will be wined, dined and sublimed until Sunday evening. Bring only the basics; no finery required. Lingerie optional but not preferred.
This paper is encoded with a special substance that can read your mind. If you decide not to accept this mission, this note will self-destruct in ten seconds.
10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…
See you at 6:00.
Scarlet smiled. A weekend. A whole weekend…To say goodbye.
Twelve
“I know it’s unusual to come to the beach this time of year,” John said, following Scarlet as she stepped onto a weathered porch. The surf pounded softly. Clouds hid the moon. Distant houses were the only points of light, like earthbound stars.
“It’s perfect,” she said, leaning her elbows on the rail. “How’d you find it?”
He rested a hand on either side of her, spooning their bodies, sheltering her from the breeze. “Belongs to a client. He’s offered it a number of times.”
It was late. They hadn’t rushed to get there, had even indulged in a leisurely dinner at a roadside diner about an hour out of the city as they drove up the sound toward Rhode Island. They’d lingered in the small, homey restaurant—their first and probably only restaurant appearance as a couple—keeping watch on the parking lot, checking out the new arrivals, even as it seemed an unlikely concern.
After dinner they made the decision not to talk about anything serious while they were at the cottage. Maybe on the drive back, but not now.
Scarlet straightened, forcing him to, and leaned against him, nestling in his arms.
“I haven’t been to the ocean in so long, except for The Tides,” she said with a sigh.
Until now they’d always been in a hurry, as if someone or something would tear them apart at any moment. For two days, however, they could relax and enjoy each other’s company. It was probably a big mistake to end their relationship with a trip to paradise, but he felt entitled to the grand finale. It had been about sex these past weeks—intense, driven sex, with a few quiet
or playful moments now and then. That kind of intensity was good in the beginning, but now…?
Now he wasn’t guessing anymore. He’d come to believe that Summer hadn’t broken his heart at all. Maybe he’d assumed it went with the territory of broken engagements, that he should have been brokenhearted. He had been surprised, disappointed and a little humiliated when she called off the engagement, but he’d recovered too quickly for her to have been the love of his life.
But this Elliott woman—this one was the heartbreaker.
“Congratulations, John.”
He pressed a kiss to her temple. Her hair blew against his skin. “On what?”
“On graduating from Woo U, with honors.” She turned to face him and looped her arms around his neck.
He’d been inspired to do the weekend up right, just now realizing he’d been arranging a honeymoon.
And a farewell.
“I think it requires a valedictorian’s speech,” she said, her eyes sparkling.
He kissed her slowly, gently, thoroughly, savoring the warmth of her mouth, the softness of her lips, the searching brush of her tongue. It was a luxury not to rush, to know no one could arrive unexpectedly or recognize them out walking tomorrow. They could pretend they were a normal couple for once—except they would wear ball caps and sunglasses as a precaution.
“Ah, the ol’ actions-speak-louder-than-words speech,” she said, snuggling against him, shivering.
“A month in the making. Let’s go inside.”
The house was typical of seaside cottages, with a nautical theme and blue-and-white decor. Seashells decorated lamp bases and a mirror frame. Interesting glass containers held more, here in the living room, and everywhere, even the bathrooms. The master bedroom’s French doors allowed a view of the ocean from the bed. The bathroom held a claw-footed tub with showerhead, and a wraparound curtain on a track.
“Would you like to take a bath?” he asked, still holding her hand.
“Sure.”
“Go ahead. I have things to do.”
She patted his chest, smiling. “I may have to change your grad status to magna cum laude.”
“That would seem to require a more elevated speech.”
Dynasties: The Elliotts, Books 1-6 Page 49