No. The hard part was trying to not let all of them know how utterly terrified she was.
Terrified, excited, hopeful, reluctant—all feelings that overwhelmed her when she thought about where she was going right after brunch: to examine the remains of a boy who had been haunting her waking and sleeping moments for more than a decade.
Gabe Cooper had agreed to her request. She didn’t know whether he believed she could do what she said, but the skeptic had at least become open to the possibility. She appreciated it and liked that about him—his ability to move outside his comfort zone. One of the many things she found herself liking about the good-looking, thoughtful man.
Still, when she thought about this afternoon, she couldn’t help shaking. The funny thing was, she needn’t have worried about anybody noticing her mood. They were all too busy being shocked by the fact that she’d brought someone with her.
“You sure you’re doing okay?” she asked in a low voice, watching Gabe cast a dubious eye on a small dish of caviar on a nearby table. He seemed much more a beer-and-wings type.
And she liked that about him, too.
“Sorry. I don’t have much experience with family gatherings,” he said.
“Yours doesn’t get together often?”
“I don’t have one,” he replied, his jaw stiffening. “At least, none I’m willing to claim.”
She mentally kicked herself for asking. Though her family was a bit out of the ordinary, and she sometimes wanted to lock her parents together in a room and make them admit they still loved one another or finally just agree to get a divorce, she could not even imagine life without them. “Well, thanks again for coming. I appreciate it. We can leave in a half hour or so.”
“I think I’ll survive that long,” he said with a slight smile.
She still couldn’t quite believe he was here. She’d been half-joking when she’d suggested it last night. Yes, she needed someone to give her a ride home from the coroner’s office, because she wouldn’t be able to drive afterward. If today were like every other time, she’d be in a bad way, needing to curl up in a dark room, cry for a while, then sleep off the horror. She’d intended to take a cab, but he had insisted on driving her.
Problem was, she had this brunch, and the timing was tight. They had to be at the coroner’s at noon, yet she couldn’t bow out of this gathering, not just because it was for Brooke but because Richard would feel slighted. Her cousin was rarely in Georgia, spending most of his time in D.C., so the August recess was usually filled with Richard-centric events. Yippee.
When Gabe had found out she had an engagement she couldn’t avoid that would make it impossible for her to get home in time for him to pick her up there, he’d agreed to come with her to her father’s estate just outside of Savannah. Having him come as her guest was a lot easier than trying to explain why she’d needed a cop to drive her when she left here.
The thing was, she hadn’t had a date in a long time. And she hadn’t brought a man around her family for at least two years. So what had sounded like a good idea last night after a glass of wine seemed crazy today, not least of which because, for a few minutes last night, she’d found it all too easy to think about being involved in some kind of personal relationship with the man. Especially when he looked at her with that slight smile, laughed that sexy, husky laugh, drawled her name in that honey-smooth Southern voice or brushed up against her with that wickedly powerful body.
God, what was happening to her? She was rapidly growing addicted to a man she’d met less than a week ago. The simple truth was, she wanted him. Wanted to be in his arms.
Last night he’d held her for comfort, and that had been nice. But he’d continued to hold her in response to sudden, thick sexual tension and, for a little while at least, that had been nicer.
He’d let her go out of necessity. That hadn’t been nice at all. In fact, it had left her wondering later that night when she was alone in her bed what might have happened if she hadn’t climbed off his lap.
Olivia didn’t usually fall hard and fast, having been burned by enough men to be wary of ever letting her guard down around one too soon. Yet this rough-edged detective already had her wishing this were a real date. Preferably their fourth or fifth date, so it could end with them in her bedroom.
Admit it, you already want to go to bed with this man, whether you ever go on a real date with him or not.
It was true. And no matter how much of a proper Southern lady her grandmother had hoped she’d be, she couldn’t muster up much embarrassment about that fact. Olivia was a woman, she liked sex, and she was incredibly attracted to the man standing next to her. What else was there to say?
“Everybody’s okay with us having to cut out early?” he asked.
“So they say.” Olivia had told them she and Gabe had to leave early for another event.
“Good.” He gazed around the living room, where everyone had gathered to socialize after the sumptuous buffet in the dining room. “Nice place your dad has.”
“I guess.” Her father’s live-in girlfriend had recently redecorated the entire downstairs. The minute her mother had walked into the house, she’d sneered, disdainful of the beachy theme, with the pale blue walls and lightweight sand-colored wicker furniture.
Personally, Olivia agreed with her. The place looked like it wanted to be a Hollister store. Then again, the girlfriend was nicknamed Sunni, so maybe it was appropriate.
The nickname irritated her mother to no end. The fact that her mother had been the one to hire Sunni as a live-in housekeeper and au pair many years ago made the situation even worse. Mom had never quite come to terms with the fact that the young woman she’d liked and welcomed into her home had ended up replacing her after she’d left. “I don’t know why he holds on to it,” she admitted. The tiny pessimist inside her suspected it was because he knew it drove her mother crazy that another woman was playing hostess in her old house. But the much bigger optimist said it was because he still held out some hope, deep within, that this whole awful situation could be fixed, and he could reclaim the life he’d once had here with his family.
She sometimes wondered how Sunni felt about it. The woman was either truly the sunniest-dispositioned person in the world, or she was one heck of an actress. Because despite an occasional edge to her tone and hardness in her eyes, for the most part, she always maintained that smile, acting like she really didn’t care that her longtime boyfriend refused to divorce his wife and marry her. But Sunni had to know Elliott Wainwright well enough to know that if she pushed him to do it, he never—ever—would. Her father was a stubborn one. So she seemed patient enough to wait, content with the house, the cars, the jewelry and the lifestyle.
“Did you grow up here?”
“Uh-huh.”
He sipped his drink—a virgin mary—then asked, “And, uh, your parents?”
“No, they’re not divorced, and, yes, they’re always like this.”
“That’s a little . . .”
“Dysfunctional?”
“I was gonna say ‘unusual.’ But that works, too.”
“Neither wants to be accused of being the one responsible for ending the marriage.”
He gave a pointed look at Sunni, who clung to Olivia’s father’s arm, and then at Carl, a tall, balding man hovering over her petite mother like a kindergartner guarding his juice box.
“Yeah. I know.” Sipping her club soda and cranberry, she added, “It’s ended in every way except on paper. Everything just sort of fell apart after what happened to me.”
“It’s a shame, but that happens in a lot of kidnapping or child murder cases. It’s a marriage killer.” He edged closer, just the tiniest bit, but enough for her to feel his body’s warmth against her arm, bared by her sleeveless top. Her heart fluttered a little, startling her. She suddenly remembered her dream from last night, surprised she hadn’t recalled it when she first woke up. Probably she’d just been glad there were no night terrors.
Defin
itely nothing terrifying. Something rather lovely instead. She’d dreamed about going to sleep in Gabe Cooper’s arms, in the chair in the den, as if he’d never let her go after he’d pulled her onto his lap. It had been a nice dream, not at all sexual but incredibly intimate. Just like that actual moment had been.
“So, do you think it was really your kidnapping that caused them to break up, or was that the excuse?”
She blinked, trying to refocus. “It was a catalyst. Things were already tense because she didn’t like the way they lived. She was uncomfortable with the Wainwright family’s never-ending quest for more money, and she loathed the politics. She was a front desk clerk at one of my father’s hotels when they met.”
Her father’s family had made their fortune off the high-end travel industry. It seemed the überrich still traveled a lot, even in a down economy, and business was booming. As far as she knew, there was enough money to keep several generations of Wainwrights comfortable.
Except her. She really didn’t want anything to do with it, having enough of her mother’s independent spirit to demand to go her own way. She’d gotten the house, and that was enough.
“My grandfather had died that March, and the governor wanted to appoint my father to his seat to finish his term. My mom hated the idea. Then I was kidnapped, and she really hated it.”
“Why?”
“She thought it would make us more of a target.” Glancing out the windows, she gestured toward a black limo parked by the detached garage on the other side of the lawn. Two large, black-clad men stood there, one leaning on the car, the other against the building. “Despite how my cousin lives, Mom had no interest in drivers and bodyguards. She wanted a normal life.”
“Hate to break it to ya, but this place ain’t exactly middle class.”
“No kidding. That’s why she took Brooke and me to Tucson and told my Dad if he wanted to stay married to her, he’d turn the governor down and come join us.”
“And?”
“Well, he did turn the governor down,” she said. “It wasn’t a huge sacrifice. Dad had never wanted to go into politics; he liked running the business. His older brother was the political genius, but he died fifteen years ago. So when the time came, Dad deferred to Richard, my late uncle’s son, who was an attorney, already a state representative, and who wanted the job.”
Gabe glanced at her cousin. “Musta been pretty young.”
“Only thirty. He just squeaked by on the age requirement. Crisis averted: God forbid there not be a Wainwright in Congress.”
“Lemme guess. Your dad didn’t go to Tucson, right?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Too proud, I think. And Sunni, our housekeeper and former babysitter, stayed here to take care of him.”
“Guess she did the job a little too well.”
“You could say that.”
“Yet you still get along with her?”
Olivia shrugged. “I’ve known her since I was a kid. At first I felt a little betrayed. But Mom was the one who left. She practically issued an invitation to Sunni to take her place.”
“Your Dad was probably pretty lonely and vulnerable without you all.”
“Exactly, and Sunni was here to keep him company. Time passed; neither of my parents would make the first move either to get back together or to end it for good. He stayed here, she stayed there, until Brooke and I moved back after college. Then she came back, too, with Carl in tow.”
Gabe nodded, looking thoughtful, glancing again toward her parents, who stood with their significant others in a far corner of the room, examining some piece of brightly colored art Sunni had bought. Olivia felt sure her mother hated it on principle.
“That’s pretty sad, actually,” he mused.
Yes, it was sad. How funny that he’d said that rather than cracking a joke or pointing out how bizarre the whole thing was. So much to like in this man.
As if knowing the subject pained her, he quickly moved on. He shot her that grin, which took ten years off his face, made his green eyes sparkle and made her heart thud. “Are your mother and Sunni going to wrestle over who gets the mother-of-the-bride spot in the church?”
“Are you kidding? Mom would lock Sunni in a closet first.”
“Nice that they’re all so friendly. That’ll be an interesting wedding.” His sarcasm was obvious. The mood in here was not friendly; it was hard, edgy and sharp as glass.
“I told Brooke she should elope.” Then she laughed. “I should have told her to run.”
“You’re against marriage?”
“Just the being married part.” Especially to a man like Drew.
“I guess I can see why.”
Maybe. But he didn’t know all of it. It wasn’t just because of her parents’ situation or her dislike of the groom. She’d seen women murdered by their husbands—literally. Feeling what an abused woman had felt while her husband stabbed her, screaming with every plunge of the knife that she’d promised to love and obey him, she couldn’t say much for the whole institution.
Suddenly, a voice intruded. “So, Gabe, I hear you’re with the police department? Good for you, young man. We appreciate your public service.”
Good lord, could her cousin Richard be any more of a dick? Not only was he incredibly patronizing, being only a dozen or so years older than Gabe, but he was just such a damned politician. He was always on, always glad-handing for votes, even at a family gathering.
“Thank you, Senator,” Gabe said smoothly, not thrown by the condescending greeting any more than he’d been thrown by her father’s questions about where he lived, her mother’s about his past relationships, or her sister’s about his plans for Valentine’s Day. Her wedding day.
“How did you two meet?” asked Richard’s wife, Tess, with that small, pasted-on smile she always wore. With the perfect hair and perfect face, she was the perfect politician’s wife. “Did you pull her over for speeding? Our Olivia has an awful lead foot.”
Our Olivia. Cheers to the second-most patronizing person in the room.
As if he could feel her rising tension, Gabe reached over and pressed a slightly possessive hand to the small of her back. It was a simple, casual gesture, but it rocked her hard. She almost found herself quivering, sensation rolling through her at the brush of this man’s fingertips on her. Even through her blouse, she could feel the warmth of his hand and wondered what that hand might feel like traveling over other parts of her body.
You’re making too much of it, she told herself. It was so easy to pretend they were here on a date, she’d let herself think it was a real one. Let herself imagine he had the right to touch her, and she had the right to seek his touch.
“Well, Gabe, how did you two meet?” Tess asked, sounding a wee bit impatient.
Olivia and Gabe exchanged a quick look. They’d gone over this in the car on the way over, agreeing to say as little as possible. “We met through our jobs,” Olivia said.
Her cousin-in-law tilted her chin up even farther, her nose flaring, like she smelled something bad. Tess hated that Olivia worked with eXtreme Investigations, without even knowing exactly what Olivia did for them. She had made comments that made it sound like Olivia was a prostitute for all the damage her “career” did to her cousin’s reputation.
That was ridiculous. Few people outside the family even knew she worked for Julia. Because Olivia’s ability was so unpleasant, she was asked to use it only in the direst circumstances, so it wasn’t like they advertised her services as a death reenactor.
The groom-to-be, who never strayed too far from his good buddy Richard, even if his fiancée was in the room, joined them. Snapping his fingers, as if he’d just realized something, Drew said, “Say, didn’t I just see you on the news yesterday? Something about a fire?”
Olivia held her breath. Gabe, though, replied easily, “Yep, I’m afraid I’m not much of a TV guy.” He laughed softly. “The press office usually handles that kind of thing.”
Tsking, her cousin’s wife sai
d, “I hope no one was hurt?” Knowing Tess, she was saying what was expected and wasn’t interested. She confirmed it by immediately moving on. “It’s a shame that you two can’t stay longer; we wanted to show you pictures of our Paris trip.”
Olivia checked her watch. Eleven thirty. “Oh, thanks for the reminder. I’m sorry, but we really have to go,” she said, murmuring a firm goodbye to her cousin, his wife, and Drew. Then she looked around for her sister, who sat alone by the window, gazing outside. Her lovely profile was emphasized by the soft sunshine coming in through the pale yellow sheers, and again Olivia couldn’t help thinking Drew wasn’t nearly good enough for her.
Walking over, she said, “Sorry to leave you alone in the lion’s den. But it can’t be helped.”
Brooke rose, taking one of her hands. “Oh, Livvie, I’m just glad you came.” She cast a quick glance toward Gabe. “I can’t believe you kept him a secret. He’s so handsome.”
“Not exactly handsome, but he is supersexy,” Olivia said before she could think better of it.
Brooke chuckled, but even as she did, her face pinkened. Not for the first time Olivia had to wonder about her sister’s relationship with her fiancé, because there were moments when her twenty-four-year-old sibling acted like she’d never been touched by a man. Certainly Drew wasn’t demonstrative toward her; she’d never even seen him hold Brooke’s hand.
But there was no time to talk about it now. There might not ever be a good time. What was she supposed to do, ask her sister if she was a virgin, then beg her to go out and get laid, at least once, before she stuck herself with Drew? Not very maid-of-honor-ish advice.
Gabe was saying his goodbyes to her parents, and Olivia joined them. “Thank you again, Sunni,” she said, extending her hand to the other woman. One of those strange protocol moments—thanking the girlfriend while the wife was standing right there, flinty-eyed.
God, with a family like this, was it any wonder Olivia had never had a relationship lasting longer than six months, and Brooke was marrying a man old enough to be her father?
Sunni extended her arms and gave her one of those fake air-hugs and a kiss that landed about an eighth of an inch away from Olivia’s cheek. “Thank you so much for comin’, sweet pea. I’m sorry y’all can’t stay. You be sure to bring your friend back any ol’ time.”
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