But all the evidence she’d seen tonight, except for the condoms, showed him to be a caring person whom people liked.
Just who was Trent Farrington?
CHAPTER SIX
Standing outside the chain-link fence surrounding the Karger building, Kate tensed as jackhammers slammed concrete and blasted their deafening sounds. The smell of oil and diesel fumes wafted in the air all around the construction site, making Kate’s stomach roil. Resolved to do this, she trudged on shaky legs through the entrance gate, determined to find and photograph some samples of the inferior products the company used.
Over the weekend, she had called Matt’s friend, Bobby, wanting to have him meet her at the site, but he still hadn’t answered the phone or returned her call.
She strode toward the nearest construction worker who stood beside a white work van. His back was to her and he wore a hard hat. A white t-shirt accentuated his broad shoulders and strong back, which tapered into a V toward a narrow waist. Tight blue jeans encased muscular, long legs and a sculpted backside.
Wow! If his rugged appearance was any indication of the workers on the site, she’d better keep this to herself or Darcy would make a beeline over here to check out the guys.
“Excuse me, sir,” Kate called out. “I need to ask you something.”
Apparently, the man didn’t hear her because he disappeared behind the open doors of the van.
Kate followed him. “Could you please tell me if Bobby Owens is working today...?” she asked as she rounded the corner, only to find the man had stripped off his t-shirt, revealing a muscular, toned back. He turned to answer her.
Trent Farrington! She gasped and stepped back.
He stood before her bare-chested with his grimy t-shirt bunched in his hands. His muscles gleamed in the sunlight. Every thought in her mind evaporated. She couldn’t take her eyes off his chest, the smattering of dark hair there…
“Dr. Meyers?” he asked, surprise in his voice. “I’m changing my shirt. What the hell are you doing here?”
Cringing that she’d have to come up with some excuse, she raised her gaze to his face. She hadn’t seen him since the time he’d discovered her in his office. That day, there had been no doubt that a fiery attraction burned between them—unwanted on both sides.
Afterwards, whenever he had needed an employee’s records, he’d sent Mrs. Nash. In turn, Kate had Darcy return the files to him.
Now, here he was, stripped practically naked before her eyes. It wasn’t the first time the words ‘Greek god’ rushed to her mind. Even with a sheen of perspiration coating him, he was incredibly sexy.
“Oh, Mr. Farrington, excuse me,” she said, snapping to her senses.
Trent ran the shirt over his sweaty face and torso, all the while watching her face intently. “Did you say Bobby Owens? What is your concern with him?”
She grasped for a logical explanation. “Ah, just a question about his home number not being on his records. It’s no big deal.”
Cleaning his safety glasses with his t-shirt, Trent’s eyes gleamed with ire. “Kind of a lame excuse. He’s not a potential date, huh, doc? One would think someone like you would go for the English Professor types, not someone who gets sweaty and greasy for a living. Of course, then there is…Greg.”
“Greg who?” she asked in a hoarse whisper. Why did he bring up Greg when Greg was the furthest thing from her mind? Her gaze raked down over Trent’s muscular shoulders and biceps, his chest, and the taut muscles of his abdomen. A sprinkling of dark hair disappeared into the snug blue jeans slung low on his hips…and toward a bulge that left little to the imagination. Heat curled around her insides and settled in her lower region.
He frowned. “Something wrong? Or have you never seen a man without a shirt before?”
Her cheeks warmed. “None like you,” she muttered truthfully. “Sorry, I mean, I’m used to seeing you in business attire.” She whirled to face the tall building. “Is it particularly hot today for October or what?”
“And growing hotter, Dr. Meyers? One would think seeing me shirtless unsettles you.”
“Not at all.” She raised her chin and turned to face him.
The gaze he flicked over her held simmering heat. “Are you sure?”
Remembering what he had said about only being available for warming her bed, she flushed from head to toe. She nodded. “I’m sure. It’s only a warm day.”
Trent chuckled. “Right.” He pulled a clean t-shirt over his head and tucked it into his jeans. “If I see Bobby, I’ll tell him to call you.”
Panic swept through her. The last thing she wanted was for Trent to mention her name to Bobby, who might in turn tell him she was Matt’s sister and not a doctor at all. “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Farrington. I’ll get in touch with him.” She turned to leave.
“Wait. You are coming for a tour, aren’t you?” Trent strode into her path. “I don’t believe you’ve been to the site. However, you must get a hard hat whenever you go through those gates—and safety glasses.”
He replaced his own. Then he strode over to the entry gate and picked up the items from a stack for her. He stepped in front of her and unceremoniously placed the hard hat on her head, then adjusted it. “Come on. I’ll take you up in the elevator. You can see the entire city.”
Kate wrinkled her brow at this personal assistance from him. “I think I have something to do back at the office.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked as they strode onto the site and toward an elevator. “Are you afraid of heights…or of me?”
Feeling a little too ill to lie completely, she nodded. “Heights bother me. You don’t in the least. But I don’t know about this…especially those open-cage elevators. I feel a little queasy just thinking about it.”
“You’ll do fine. It’s perfectly safe. I’ll be right beside you. After all, this is what we do here. You know,” he teased, “we build buildings. This is our largest project to date.”
“Does it sound silly to you, my fear of heights?” she asked, her voice quivering.
“Not at all. We’re all afraid of something.” His ironic gaze swept over her.
Was he afraid of commitment? Was that why his family pushed him so hard toward marriage?
Trent headed toward the place where Matt had fallen. Pain and sadness hit her as she followed him. As they neared the spot, panic swept through her. Unable to face the spot at this moment, she backed away. “I’m sorry. Please excuse me. I remember something I have to do at the office. I-I’ll tour the building and go up in the elevator some other day.”
Kate hurried on shaky legs toward the entrance, dropping the hard hat and safety glasses on the stacks. She fled through the gates.
* * *
On Saturday, the sun set low on what promised to be a gorgeous fall Florida evening for the benefit ball.
Trent slid out of his Porsche and rang the doorbell at his grandfather’s mansion. Every member in the family, no matter where else they lived, had their own bedroom suite at the house. His mother resided here part time, while his Aunt Vera lived here all the time.
Trent had been at his condo dressing, when he’d received a call from his mother. His grandfather wanted them at the house for a family meeting before the party. He didn’t look forward to these gatherings, but would attend for the sake of his grandfather.
Trent stepped up the bricked steps and rang the doorbell.
The butler opened the mammoth front door. The diminutive Beasley, his hair in white wisps over his balding head, craned his neck upward. “Mr. Trent, what a pleasure it is to see you,” he said in his British accent. “A man in black. Your costume this year is…?”
“Zorro.”
“The ladies will be impressed.”
Every time he saw their short English butler, Trent was reminded of a television comedian in a bad skit. He suppressed his laughter into a warm smile. “Hey, Beasley, anyone tell you that you look like an actor?”
“Oh, no, Mr. Trent. I
don’t think anyone would mistake me for a star. If you’re looking for your grandfather, he’s been in his library all day. He said he’s relaxing.”
“Relaxing my ass,” Trent ground out under his breath.
He shook his head in disgust as he strode down the hall, his leather boots echoing on the black-and-white checked marble floor. Without knocking, Trent thrust the door open and entered his grandfather’s two-story library with its gleaming mahogany-paneled walls, vintage leather furniture, and towering bookshelves.
The old man should have been resting, but he sat at his desk with pen to paper. His face reddened when he saw his grandson. “Trent.”
“Caught in the act.” Trent strode across the floor. “Eden said the doctor told you to take it easy. Why are you working?”
“You know I dislike it when you call your mother by her first name—and I can’t take it easy. I’m bored stiff.” He started to haul himself out of the chair, but the effort seemed too much. He sat back in his seat.
Trent moved around the desk. “Damn it, you’re going to kill yourself. No more work today.” He helped his grandfather over to the leather sofa, then propped a pillow behind his back and slid an ottoman under the elderly man’s feet. “While you look as healthy as a horse, if the doctor says you’re to rest because of a weak heart, you’re to rest.”
Eden traipsed into the room with Beasley following. “Let’s hope so,” she said.
Dressed like a queen with a diamond tiara on her head, she brushed by Trent. Her wide evening gown rustled against his legs. “Now, give your mother a kiss, since I haven’t seen you in ages.”
Her appearance of warmth was the usual lie. She didn’t approve of Trent. Never had. To her, his looks and his playboy lifestyle was a constant reminder of his father who must have broken her heart, and Trent had always borne the brunt of her anger after his father’s death. He had tried so hard when he was young to make her happy, but he no longer cared.
“You look lovely as usual, Mother.” He touched his lips to her cheek—a gimmick to keep the elderly man satisfied that all was right between them.
While his mother sat on the sofa, she patted a space beside her, signaling her son to sit next to her. “Trent…dear.”
He nodded and sat down.
“Beasley, drinks for everyone,” his grandfather ordered.
“Except for you,” Trent quipped. “You’re going to follow doctor’s orders.”
After the butler served Eden a martini and Trent a beer, his grandfather said, “Now, where the hell is Roland?”
Trent straightened the cuff on his shirt and shrugged. “Is he even in town?” Trent wasn’t his cousin’s keeper and hadn’t seen him in a month. They both avoided each other’s company unless business or holidays forced them together. Not since Trent had been eighteen and Roland twenty-four had they been close. And that closeness ended abruptly for good reason. His cousin had betrayed him with a woman that Trent had at one time thought he loved.
“Well, I can’t wait all day for him to decide to show,” his grandfather said. “I could be on my deathbed, and he would be late.”
Strolling into the library, Roland showed signs the good life had assaulted his waning looks. Dark circles revealed how much he partied, while his blond hair curled in wisps over his forehead. “Discussing me with great affection I hope?”
“What are you wearing?” Eden asked, sarcasm lacing every word.
Roland patted his portly stomach. “When I’m finished dressing, I’ll be Batman.” He stalked to the bar and poured a drink. “Trying to make me look bad again, cuz?”
Trent met his cousin’s pale blue gaze. “No one has to do that for you. You do an adequate job yourself.”
Roland raised his beverage in salute. “At least, I don’t have employees dying—”
“Stop, please,” his grandfather interrupted. “I don’t want your squabbling in front of me. I expect the two of you to put aside your differences now. I have something important to say.” He sighed and leaned back on the sofa.
“Take it easy,” Trent said. “Don’t upset yourself.”
His grandfather’s gaze studied his. “My doctor ordered me to rest. I’m leaving you at the helm, Trent. You’ll assume my duties and make all the major decisions. Roland, you are second in command and will be his right-hand man.”
“What the hell? I’m older. Why choose him and not me?” Roland asked.
“Trent’s been my vice president this past year. When you prove yourself responsible, then we’ll talk again. Now, both of you need to show me over the next couple of weeks that I can rely on you to run the business.”
Trent wasn’t surprised when Roland cast a threatening glance in his direction.
Eden waved her hand. “Your grandfather is right. Now, Roland, stop being such a baby. And, Trent, why don’t you and your cousin apologize to each other for whatever it has been that has been bothering you two for the past decade.”
Did she really think years of animosity could be solved in a single sentence? And why should he be the one to apologize? Trent rose and strode to the bar.
His grandfather shook his fist. “You’d better settle your differences. Farrington Construction is your heritage. I’m depending on you both. Roland, I’m giving you a second chance to step into the VP role, but leave now. I need to discuss some other issues with Trent.”
Roland raised his hand in mock salute. “Of course. He’s the favored grandson. I’ll say good night.” On his way out, he walked past the bar where Trent leaned. “Watch your back, cuz, because you might find a knife in it.”
Then Roland strode out.
Sighing, Trent returned to his chair. He wished his grandfather wouldn’t always pit them against each other.
“I don’t understand why you two can’t get along?” Eden said.
Trent shrugged and shook his head. Too much water under the bridge now, as the saying goes.
“It was the same with my brother,” his grandfather muttered. “Only one of us could be in charge. Luckily, I was the one.” He leveled his gaze on Trent’s mother. “Eden, I expect you to support Trent while I’m off work and at home.”
His mother raised an eyebrow. “Of course, James, but frankly, you should have made me Trent’s right-hand woman. Haven’t I always done everything you’ve asked?”
His grandfather gave her a curt nod. “You’ve been a good daughter-in-law.”
Trent sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Mother, please… Don’t worry about anything at the company and you’ll have my gratitude.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Eden’s mouth curved downward. “No, darling, I’ll be happy to help you. I will not let you or James down.”
Now what did that veiled statement mean?
Trent groaned under his breath. That was all he needed. A few years ago, when his mother—Miss Socialite—had insisted on a position of power in the company, his grandfather had placated her and invented the title of Executive Vice President of Affairs. No surprise to Trent, she had proven herself unreliable in even the lightest of duties. She had never been dependable—anytime or with anything in his life.
His mother and his cousin had become headaches to be tolerated, even more than his grandfather would ever know. Other than the three of them, there was Roland’s mother. Though a member of the family, Aunt Vera never had any interest in the business.
His grandfather leaned toward him. “Tonight, at the party, you’re to take over my duties as host. Your mother will assist you.
“Fine,” Trent said inclining his head. Eden was her best at social functions.
“Now, Trent, the last thing I need to discuss with you, before you and your mother take off, is about your settling down. I would retire if you proved yourself capable to run the company…and if you would marry.”
Trent blew out a deep breath. “You’re not going to let up, are you? I can tell you, you’ll have to do better in your scheming than throwing Dr. Meyers at me. She is
not in the least interested in me…at all.”
After he’d seen her at the construction site, he ran into her and Greg in the hallway. Both of them seemed happy. She smiled at Greg like she never had at him, and it had been a sucker punch of reality. Greg had winked as if giving Trent a signal that things were going well with her. Trent had backed off on any pursuit, for his friend’s sake, even though he had considered ramping things up with the little psychologist.
His grandfather snorted. “I didn’t throw her at you.”
Trent raised a cynical eyebrow.
“All right, fault me,” he grumbled. “If I hire a pretty girl once in awhile, it’s only because I want to do what’s best for you and this family.” His grandfather laid a hand against his heart and slumped back on the sofa.
“Are you all right?” Trent rose to his feet.
“It’s nothing… Growing tired, but let me finish what I have to say. For some reason, Farringtons don’t reproduce easily… My brother died without any children. Now, our entire future rests on you.”
“And Roland,” Trent stated flatly. “He’s your grandson, too.”
Eden rose from her chair. “Trent, let’s go, and leave James to rest.”
* * *
A few minutes later, Trent stepped outside with his mother and onto the front porch of the mansion, with its tall white columns and red brick bathed in moonlight.
Eden gave him a sideways glance. “Please…ride with me to the ball.”
Trent surveyed her cool demeanor. Although riding with her was against his better judgment, he nodded in agreement. From his car, he gathered up the hat, sword, and mask that went with his costume.
Her chauffeur opened the limousine door. “Thank you, Marc.” Eden patted the man’s lapel and slid into the car.
Trent wondered as he climbed in, what the Ice Queen’s relationship was with her burly driver and all-around assistant?
Once they were seated, Trent shut the glass between them and the driver.
Disguised with the Millionaire (Dangerous Millionaires Series Book 2) Page 9