To Wear His Ring

by Diana Palmer

  He’d come with a message from Magnus. He was bored and looking for Lucy. It wasn’t him. She could not be one hundred percent sure…

  Disappointment turned her mouth down. Of course that was Ethan. No one could emulate those endless legs, that eat-up-the-miles gait as he’d followed Juliette inside.

  That made a lie of his assertion that he’d never met Magnus’s wife before his arrival at Summerhill. She had been right beside them at their odd, tension-filled introduction. Then there were the loaded looks he shot Juliette when he thought no one was watching. Lucy thought it was because of his disdain for wealthy women, especially after hearing the story of his childhood. It would be strange if he weren’t carrying around some residual prejudice.

  A couple of anguished hours later, she knocked on Juliette’s door. That took a lot of courage. If he’d been there, Lucy had no idea what she would have said. But he wasn’t—unless he was hiding in the shower. And Juliette was still pale and subdued.

  “Have you been out?” Lucy’s voice caught in her throat as she walked into the suite and saw through to the rumpled bed. Stop.

  “No,” Juliette said.

  “Did you get the doctor?”

  “No. I’m feeling a little better.”

  “Poor you,” Lucy mumbled. “You must have been bored silly today.” Her eyes searched Juliette’s face.

  “I just read.” The woman shrugged.

  Lucy left to arrange the charter flight that would leave half a day earlier than they had planned. Her feet dragged. It was true. If it had been an innocent visit, Juliette would have mentioned it.

  They were lovers. Liars. Betraying Magnus.

  Oh, they made a handsome couple. Juliette was exactly the sort of woman she would expect Ethan to have on his arm—lovely, sophisticated, worldly. He wouldn’t seriously be interested in an undersized airhead like her. No brains to save her. No qualifications. Poverty grinning over her threshold.

  Oh, he didn’t know that. That was the whole point…

  But he seemed to like her. His eyes told her he liked her very much. His mouth told her he was hungry for hers. He didn’t even seem to mind that she walked around with her big, fat foot in her mouth all day.

  Lucy’s chest tightened. How could someone you barely knew have the power to hurt you this much?

  He wouldn’t take her in again. She did not mind being thought of as an easy touch, but she was damned if she would let that man kindle hope in her again. She was nothing but a diversion. A subterfuge. It was Juliette he wanted.

  The morning flight back to Summerhill was a quiet affair. Juliette still claimed to feel awful. Lucy’s suspicions and hurt had ballooned overnight but she did not broach the subject. She was torn. She wanted to know—how she wanted to know. But one word from Juliette could make or break Summerhill in Magnus’s eyes. Lucy could not afford to alienate her.

  They arrived back at Summerhill in the early afternoon, much more restrained than before. Lucy jumped out and hefted Juliette’s classy luggage and vanity from the boot.

  Ellie welcomed them back. “Let me,” she ordered.

  Lucy normally wouldn’t dream of letting the older woman carry luggage upstairs, but Summerhill wasn’t her comforting refuge today. She had no wish to run into Ethan while she felt so raw.

  Citing an appointment, she bade them a brisk goodbye and roared off into town.

  It was the morning from hell.

  At ten-thirty, Summerhill’s former meat supplier from the village turned up at her apartment, saying he had already been to the lodge looking for Tom. It transpired that he had instigated proceedings against Summerhill for unpaid accounts. Tom was to have responded to the civil court claim to pay the arrears within thirty days or dispute the claim. Time was up. The civil court, in the absence of any action by the lodge to respond, had made judgment in favor of Hogan’s Meats.

  Lucy was stunned. It was the first she had heard of it. She and Tom had known the Hogans all their lives. Mr. Hogan told her that Summerhill owed several thousand to the family-owned business, which had been chasing them up for over a year.

  Mr. Hogan warned her that if full payment was not received within a month, he would make application to put Summerhill Lodge Holdings into liquidation. In that event, he said, he would be at the front of a very long queue.

  She sat at her desk with the official documents in her hand and Mr. Hogan sitting across from her. Staring blindly at the papers, she apologized again and again and promised to make Tom write the check the moment he returned from the hunt.

  Then Mr. Hogan passed a comment that stopped her in her tracks.

  “I’m talking now as an old friend of your father’s. Well, used to be. There are a lot of people getting pretty tired of dealing with Summerhill. You’d better shape up. Someone’s sniffing around. People don’t know if it’s the Inland Revenue Department or a liquidator. Hell, could be a private investigator. I personally wish you no harm, at least I won’t once I get my money. But there are others who would gladly blab. Missed payments, wages held back, bad debts. Watch your back is what I’m saying.”

  After he’d gone, Lucy succumbed to a teeth-clenching tension headache, accompanied by a fit of self-indulgent crying. God, she was so stupid, so naive to think she could help run this business. Everyone would be so much better off without her.

  Foreboding prickled at the back of her neck. There was something going on here that she had no comprehension of, and Tom obviously found her too lacking in business sense to share his problems.

  Why had she come back? She had never been wanted here. What was different? So much easier to run away, as she always had when their indifference rankled.

  The doorbell rang again. Now what? She hurriedly blew her nose and wiped her face on the way to the door. Ethan Rae, looking dangerously alert for the hour, strolled into the hallway. “Morning.”

  Too surprised to protest, she took a step back and he walked past her. Closing her eyes, her body sank back against the wall for a few fortifying seconds. This was just what she needed. She pushed herself away from the wall. “What can I…” Hurrying after him, she almost ran into the solid wall of his back, finding he’d stopped to let her catch up. She dug her toes into the floor and suppressed a sigh of frustration. “Do for you?”

  Ethan stepped back against the wall and motioned her past. “This is where you live.”

  She led the way into her little office. He followed at his own pace, giving her living room an interested study.

  “Is that a McCahon?” He gestured to a painting in the dining area by a well-known New Zealand artist whose works spanned the fifties through to the eighties. “That must be quite valuable.”

  “A twenty-first-birthday present from my father,” she told him. Her father had used money as a way to keep distance. Like this apartment he’d bought for her when she was barely out of school—it had kept her away from Summerhill and out of his hair.

  Lucy sat at her desk, turning the legal documents facedown. It was so unfair. After the morning she’d just endured and before she could compose herself, Ethan was the very last person she wanted to see.

  He did not budge when she indicated the chair behind him, just stood looking down at her intently. Could he see how upset and tense she was? It was her curse to have a damn face that showed everything. She dragged on all her reserves in a massive effort to relax.

  He looked so good, still in snappy black pants but a more casual butter-colored shirt that did wonderful things for his eyes. It was hard to recall what she was angry with him for.

  “Can I help you with something?” She focused on a spot over his shoulder.

  “Spend the day with me.” No hesitation. Just like that.

  Her eyes skidded to his and astonishment pushed her voice up high. “What?”

  “It’s what you do, isn’t it? Entertain clients?”

  “Um—today?” Her voice sounded thready.

  His eyes narrowed with something like concern. “Y
es, today. What’s wrong, Lucy?”

  If he starts being nice to me, I’ll burst into tears, she thought frenziedly. Forget this morning, and be careful. She must not let on about the morning’s events. She cleared her throat, seeking a firmer tone. “I can’t today. You should have given me some warning.”

  He perched on the edge of her desk and she tried not to be riveted by the pull of expensive black fabric stretched across long thighs.

  “What are you doing?”

  “What?” she squeaked, dragging her eyes back to his face.

  “Today. Meetings? Clients to keep waiting at the airport? Lovely trophy wives to entertain?”

  That comment jabbed her right in the heart. He had been the one entertaining a lovely trophy wife. Should she casually ask, “By the way, how long have you and Juliette been lovers?”

  Lucy took a deep breath, wishing him away. Wishing her brain would unscramble enough for her to give him a professional and firm negative. Above all else, she couldn’t afford to show her distress. If he knew of the financial problems besetting Summerhill, Magnus would hear of it and Tom would go ape.

  She kept her eyes down, ineffectually moving things around on her desk and mangling the tissue in her hands into a mess of tufts.

  But her heart leapt into her throat when his index finger landed under her chin, tilting it up.

  “You’ve been crying.” His voice was gentle. It nearly did her in completely when he pulled another tissue from the box and handed it to her.

  Ethan sensed the moment he walked in that she was upset, shaken even. Why that should concern him, he had no idea, yet it did. He wasn’t even sure why he was here, except that he’d utilized his time well in the last couple of days and felt he deserved a break. He’d spent hours preparing for the Turtle Island meetings. Made a few inquiries around the region regarding Summerhill. Today he had come straight from the Seabrook MacKenzie Dyslexia Center in town and had a pocketful of leaflets, but stayed his hand from reaching for them.

  He was looking forward to some more of the easy, flirting banter they seemed to draw from each other. Maybe looking forward to another delicious kiss.

  Okay, maybe hoping for a lot more than that.

  But something was badly wrong. She looked beaten. Forgetting the brochures, he pulled a tissue from the box on her desk and handed it to her.

  She took the tissue he offered and disposed of the remains of the one in her hand. “No I haven’t.”

  She was lying. Her eyelashes were wet. He marveled at the surge of testosterone that rolled through him. Ever since he’d met Lucy McKinlay, he’d been walking around baring his teeth and beating his chest. Trying to impress her in the pool. Wanting to rip that guy’s face off at the game.

  “Who’s upset you? Is it Tom?” The harshness of his voice grated. Now he was ready to take on her brother. What was the matter with him?

  Lucy shook her head, moving pads and pens, a stapler from one place to another on her desk. Anything to avoid looking right at him. “Tom’s away, remember?”

  She sniffed loudly. There was a slightly sullen plumpness to her lips and her back was ramrod straight.

  Ethan got up off the desk, pulled the chair up and sat with his elbows on her desk. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” He leaned forward and down so their faces were on the same level.

  Lucy shook her head stubbornly. For a brief second, he considered leaving her to her mood. He had work to do. He needed to stay focused, not run around mopping up tears.

  But right now, she wasn’t talking.

  He sighed. “Okay, Lucy, show me how upset you’re not by coming out with me.”

  Then her features changed subtly, as if she had made a decision. She stood and moved around the desk. By the time she got to him and looked down on him, the sullenness had fallen away. Her eyes lit up the room with sunshine. A saucy little smile whispered of an intimacy he could only dream of.

  “You’re right. It’s a beautiful winter’s day. Let’s not waste it indoors.”

  She hadn’t put out her hand but he felt a sweet glow of warmth as if she had touched him. Something worrisome nagged at him.

  But he pushed it away. He was happy to be here. He could tell himself all day that he was doing his job, checking out Summerhill for Magnus. But in truth, he couldn’t stay away.

  Lucy chattered on brightly, grabbing her coat, telling him she would drive, gathering up a handful of brochures to look at. The chattering continued as she dashed confidently around the streets in her little car. She allowed him the odd grunt or nod to the questions she asked, but for the most part, he sat quietly, wondering what she was hiding.

  His inquiries in the village had turned up quite a bit to be concerned about. Tom was in it right up to his neck and Ethan bet that Lucy had little idea of what was going on. From what he’d heard, things were accelerating and it was only a matter of time until the other shoe dropped.

  And this burst of bright activity and energy—he realized Lucy was trying to distract him. Just like the other day at the firearms cabinet when she had kissed him to distract him, to conceal something, to cover up for her brother.

  What had she said? She was naughty at school to cover up her dyslexia. The more he thought about it, the more he was sure she used her charm to cover up a deep sense of powerlessness at what was happening in her life.

  Chapter Seven

  “Talk a lot, don’t you?” he injected in a rare pause.

  She compressed her lips in a rueful grin. “Have you only just noticed?”

  Ethan chuckled and stretched, glad to be here with her. He was too big for this tiny sports car, which only served to remind him of her proximity and the scent he missed when she wasn’t around.

  He could be distracted. Lust rippled over his nerve endings and he sighed in pleasure. Lust he could handle.

  “I’m glad you invited me out,” he told her.

  “Really?” The word turned down at the end, telling him dyslexic she may be, but she recognized tongue-in-cheek when she heard it. “What did you have in mind?”

  “You’re the tour guide. Make a plan.”

  Whatever was worrying her, she’d obviously decided to put it behind her. “That’s right. There has to be a plan.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Do you ever do anything just for the hell of it?”

  Ethan thought for a few seconds. “Once, on a mountain, I kissed a girl after knowing her only a few hours.”

  Lucy glanced at him briefly. He caught a flash of that flirty look she got sometimes, right before she remembered she was trying to keep it professional.

  Then she grinned. “Truly heroic.”

  They drove through a long tunnel and into a small harbor town about twenty minutes from the city center. A visiting cruise ship dominated the berthed container ships and fishing vessels.

  “I heard this ship was in town. How about a cruise tour?”

  The Princess Athena was one of the largest liners in the world. Three hundred meters long, sixteen stories high, and solid-gold luxury.

  The passengers were off sightseeing or shopping in Christchurch. Parts of the ship were on display to interested sightseers, though the security guards nearly outnumbered the visitors.

  Lucy dragged him from bars to ballrooms to casinos to beauty salons and boutique shops. Afterwards they tossed a coin for choice of food and ended up eating fish and chips out of paper on a low wall along one of the lesser wharfs. They watched kids fishing off the wharf, bundled up in brightly colored anoraks. The sea chopped up into agitated whitecaps and seagulls screeched and strutted around them.

  “I am seriously going to have to find myself a rich husband, and fast,” Lucy commented, her eyes on the Princess Athena.

  Ethan had been munching on a satisfyingly salty piece of fish which suddenly turned to paste in his mouth. He wished she hadn’t said that.

  “I defy you to find me one woman,” she continued, “barring the criminally insane,
who would turn down a cruise on a baby like that.”

  An excited cry from the clutch of children distracted her. “Oh look, they’ve caught something.”

  Ethan flung the piece of food into the air. Seagulls rose up and then down to scramble for their prize.

  But when she turned back to him, her face was so open and animated, no trace of the shadows of the morning. He told himself it was a throwaway remark.

  Anyway, at this point, they were sharing a friendly day out. Nothing more complicated than that.

  “Tell me about your job,” Lucy demanded, choosing a fat chip, bending her head back to lower it into her mouth.

  Ethan explained his role in Magnus’s corporation. Scouting tourist resort locations, negotiating the deal, organizing architects and surveyors and necessary permits. “Everything from bribery to schmoozing with local councils, religious leaders and politicians.”

  Once the consents were secured, he would hire and supervise building crews, interior designers and tradespeople for the finishing. The management and staff came last. “I generally stay around for the first month or so of operation,” he explained. “One project can take up to two years.”

  He told her about Turtle Island, his father and Magnus’s history with the island, and how once it was completed—provided he got the deal—it would be his last.

  “What then?”

  “I don’t know. Some piece of farm land somewhere.”

  “You want to farm?” she asked curiously. “I’d have thought you would shy away from that, after your childhood.”

  “Part of me wants to prove I can do it, I suppose,” he said thoughtfully. “Prove I can make a better job of it this time round.”

  “Prove you are a better farmer than your father, you mean.”

  Ethan chuckled. “That wouldn’t be hard.” He lifted his bottled water and took a swig. “Enough about me. Did you always want to look after trophy wives?”

  Lucy laughed and wiped her fingers on a tissue. “Being dyslexic kind of stifles any great ambition. I’ve never really thought in terms of a long-lasting career. But there are a few things I’d like to do to improve Summerhill.”