FAMILY FEUD

by Barbara Boswell

  An intense fury, stronger and fiercer than anything she had ever known, began to uncoil within her. Garrett had bought Halford House! She'd been living in a stupid dreamworld for the past weeks, and the stunning force of reality was as painful and dizzying as an unexpected punch in the stomach.

  Garrett watched the range of emotions play across her face, from incredulity to shock to burning rage. He knew her so well that he could identify each one, almost following her thought patterns as she worked everything out.

  "Shelby," he began, then paused, realizing that he had no idea what to say next. He'd envisioned breaking the news to her slowly, gently and subtly, on their honeymoon. In his imaginary scenario, she accepted the truth because she was his wife, so madly and passionately in love with him that nothing else really mattered.

  But one look at the hurt and horrified expression on her face told him that he'd been living in a fantasy world. Married or not, Shelby was not going to take this matter lightly.

  "Why?" Her voice was a hoarse rasp. "Why did you do it, Garrett?"

  "Why did I buy Halford House?" Garrett stalled for time. He knew the answer to that particular question very well. He'd outlined the reasons to his staff within the company and discussed his plan with friends in the industry. He'd even presented his reasons to Art Halford, who found him credible—and rich—enough to sell him Halford House. "There were several reasons, all of which—"

  "Don't you dare try to sidetrack me with your corporate prevarications!" Shelby cut in wildly. "I want the truth, although I realize that might be difficult for a lying weasel like you!"

  Her heart was pounding, her head was pounding, too. A violent sense of betrayal welled up within her, rocking her as intensely as her rage and the awful sense of her own sheer stupidity. The combination was deadly. For a moment or two she felt almost nauseated from the powerful force of her emotions. That would be all she'd need, she thought grimly. To faint or throw up, right in front of Garrett McGrath and Paul Whitley.

  She hated both of them, Shelby decided, her temper reaching flash point. She hated Garrett for his dishonesty and deceit, and Paul for, well, for being here and telling her of Garrett's dishonesty and deceit. For the first time ever, she truly understood the old custom of killing the messenger of bad news. If she were of a homicidal bent—and at this moment, she was somewhat sorry that she wasn't—she would have slaughtered Paul right along with Garrett.

  "Why didn't you tell me that you'd bought Halford House?" she raged at Garrett.

  How could I have been so incredibly blind? she asked herself at the same time. Her own answer appalled her. She'd been blind because she'd wanted to be. She was living, breathing proof that the stupid old cliché "love is blind" wasn't so stupid or out-of-date, after all.

  "Damn, I should have figured it out," she said fiercely, talking to herself instead of the two men who were watching her. Paul was visibly wary and nervous; Garrett's expression was totally unreadable. His mouth was firm and straight, his blue eyes hooded, giving nothing away. His very inscrutability further infuriated Shelby. At least Paul was afraid of her!

  She began to pace the floor, too wired to stay still. "After all, your presence at Halford House was another false assumption that you didn't bother to correct—and that I didn't pick up on. Like your buying the Blue Springs Resort."

  Another sharper stab of pain reflected in her hazel eyes. He'd had a perfect opportunity to tell the whole truth when he'd told her the partial truth about the Blue Springs. Instead he'd chosen to continue his deception, his lie by omission. "But my stupidity is my own fault, isn't it? I should have jumped all over the illogical reasons that—"

  "I deliberately misled you, Shelby," Garrett cut in quietly. "I had no intention of letting you find out the truth until I was ready to let you know."

  His bald admission scalded her. "You're a manipulating, lying snake!" A manipulating, lying snake whom she'd fallen deeply in love with—and had even agreed to marry this Saturday! "And I'm the most gullible fool in the universe."

  Depression rolled over her in a crashing wave, supplanting the wild, primitive high that had been energizing her. Hot tears filled her eyes. "I'm getting out of here," she announced, breaking into a run. She would rather be thrown over Niagara Falls in a cardboard box than cry in front of Garrett McGrath!

  "Shelby, wait!"

  Garrett came after her. She knew he would. Whatever game he was playing did not include her walking out on him. She was halfway down the front walk when he caught her arm, spinning her around and halting her in her tracks. "Look, I know what I did was wrong," he said, and there wasn't a trace of either flippancy or executive command in his voice. Garrett McGrath sounding contrite, she scorned. Now that was a first!

  "But if you'll give me a chance to explain, I can clear up this misunderstanding and—"

  That was when she drew back her hand and slapped him full across the cheek. "This was no misunderstanding, you … you arrogant creep! You intentionally duped me!"

  Garrett gingerly rubbed his cheek. Her slap packed a real wallop. He supposed he deserved it. Gran and his sisters would certainly say so, with the possible exception of Fiona, who might cut him some slack. Garrett sighed. He deserved no slack. "Yes, I did," he admitted. "And I'm sorry."

  "How far did you intend to carry your little charade? And why the insistence on a wedding?" Her voice trembled and she despised herself for it. "I can understand you getting a sadistic kick at playing me for a fool these past weeks, but there was certainly no reason to ask me to marry you—"

  "There was a very good reason." Paul Whitley had joined them. His mouth was twisted in a smile of bitter triumph. "You haven't heard the entire story yet, Shelby. You see, your father refused to sell him Halford House unless he married you. The whole deal is contingent on it."

  * * *

  Chapter 12

  « ^

  Shelby gaped at him, too shocked, too wounded to utter a sound. But her mind was racing, flashing back to certain scenes that she now reassessed with stunning clarity.

  She remembered the time her father had sent her to Garrett's cottage with the folder containing the irrelevant brochures, disguised as important business. She'd been touched at his matchmaking attempts, but Art Halford hadn't been matchmaking at all—he'd been trying to make a sale! And she had literally fallen into Garrett's arms that day, had fallen in love with him.

  "You don't know what you're talking about, Whitley." Garrett's voice rose with anger and indignation.

  He was angry and indignant because he'd been found out, Shelby concluded, feeling sicker by the minute. He was undoubtedly seething with frustration because he had been so close to successfully pulling things off. Oh, it all made sense to her now. Garrett's insistence on a speedy wedding, his determination to rush her to the altar. She'd believed that he was in a hurry to make her his wife because he loved her. In truth, he was eager to secure his rights to Halford House, and that couldn't happen until he put a wedding ring on her finger.

  It's a done deal! Her father's response to the news of her quickie engagement to Garrett echoed in her ears. She had thought it a bit odd, but then, nobody knew better than she that her father was not a sentimentalist. A done deal, indeed! That's exactly what it was, or would have been, come Saturday.

  "I know very well what I'm talking about, McGrath! I know the full story!" Paul Whitley's sharp retort cut across her bleak reverie. "Laney told me everything, right after she announced that she was leaving with Oliver Tate." He turned to Shelby, his expression petulant. "Laney said your father figured you would drive away every eligible man on your own and so he arranged to land a rich husband for you while building a retirement nest egg for himself."

  Shelby thought she would die from the pain that was resounding through her. And then, mercifully, she went numb. "I see," she said flatly. "Well, that explains it all, then."

  "It explains nothing because it is nothing but a barefaced lie," Garrett said, his voice as hard as
his blue eyes. "Think it through, Shelby. You know me well enough to know that—"

  "No, Garrett," she said distantly. She was suddenly, wonderfully cool and remote, untouchable by everything around her. "I really don't know you at all." Squaring her shoulders, she continued down the walk, her head held high.

  "I rented a car, Shelby," Paul said helpfully, failing into step beside her. "I'll drive you where you want to go."

  Shelby fought the temptation to brush him aside like a bothersome gnat. But she had to forgo the pleasure, since she could use his assistance. "All right, Paul. You can drive me to the airport. But first, I'd like you to go inside Garrett's lair and get my purse and my suitcase. Would you do that for me? I would appreciate it so much." To her own ears, she sounded as fake and phony as Laney weaseling some poor chump. And to her utter amazement, Paul nodded his consent.

  But he didn't have to do it. He'd started for the door as Shelby sat stiffly in the front seat, staring out the windshield at the flickering streetlight when the back door of the car was opened. Shelby jumped, startled. Garrett placed her suitcase and her purse in the back seat.

  "This isn't over, Shelby," Garrett said in calm, measured tones. "Not by a long shot."

  She wanted to scream some scathing retort, but pride called for her to keep her dignity intact. It was the only thing she had left, she reminded herself, her heart and her pride having been decimated by Garrett McGrath, hotelier-fiend. "Give it up, Garrett," she said with a world-weary sigh. "I'm not going to marry you, so you won't get Halford House."

  "If you want to break into the high-end of the market, go buy the Blue Springs, McGrath," Paul jeered, sliding behind the wheel.

  They drove away into the night. Garrett, standing on the sidewalk with his hands thrust into the pockets of his jeans, watched until the car was long out of sight.

  * * *

  There wasn't a direct flight to Miami that night, so Shelby and Paul took a series of available flights south, first to Pittsburgh, then to Charlotte, and finally, into Miami, arriving in the early hours of the morning, a few hours before dawn streaked the sky.

  Paul made a few stabs at conversation during the long, disjointed trip. "I'm really sorry all this happened, Shelby," he said with credible sincerity. "I'm sorry about everything. When we left California for Florida, I thought our friendship might develop into something deeper." His voice and his expression turned bitter. "It might have if it hadn't been for Laney. I was transfixed by her. But I blame her, not myself. What man could resist a beautiful woman like Laney?"

  If he expected a reply from Shelby, none was forthcoming. She knew of one man who'd easily resisted Laney. Garrett McGrath. And then she remembered why he'd been so immune to her sister—because Laney hadn't been offered as part of the hotel package that she, Shelby, had been included in.

  Shelby steadfastly refused to acknowledge the spasm of pain ripping through her. She couldn't deal with this now, she told herself sternly. She wouldn't.

  They rented another car and drove to Port Key and Halford House. Shelby tiptoed into her room, taking care not to wake her parents. She was relieved that she hadn't called to tell them about the Saturday wedding; at least she wouldn't have to explain the abrupt cancellation. And then she remembered that the sale of Halford House was contingent on her marriage and that her parents—or certainly her father—probably knew all about Garrett's wedding plans.

  All the agony of betrayal, of falling in love only to learn that the man she loved didn't love her at all—that he'd been using her to gain a hotel for his burgeoning empire!—burst out of the shackles she'd temporarily put on it. She no longer had the balm of anger or numbness to keep the terrible hurt at bay.

  Lying alone in the twin bed in the dark privacy of her girlhood room, Shelby began to cry.

  * * *

  "What are you doing back?" Arthur Halford greeted Shelby the next morning in the kitchen as he and his wife sat down to breakfast. "Where's Garrett?"

  Shelby shrugged and managed a brittle smile. "In Buffalo, I guess. I came back last night with Paul." She was dressed in gray shorts and a gray T-shirt for her morning run on the beach. The color suited her dreary spirits.

  "I didn't hear you come in. Did you sleep well, dear?" her mother asked.

  "Yes, Mom," Shelby said, lying outright. Anyone looking at her could tell she'd had a terrible night, but then, who in the Halford family had ever really looked at Shelby? She hadn't slept at all last night and it showed. There were dark circles under her eyes and her face was pale and drawn. She'd cried for hours, until her throat ached and her eyes burned from the stinging salt of her tears. Her eyes were red and swollen, her nose puffy and her voice hoarse from her sore throat, all evidence of her prolonged crying bout.

  Her parents made no comment about her appearance, but her father was quick to demand, "When is Garrett coming back?"

  Shelby poured herself a cup of black coffee, inhaling the bracing aroma and taking a bolstering gulp before replying, "I hope he never comes back, Dad. I found out about the plot to sell Halford House, so the game is over."

  "What game?" her mother asked blankly.

  At least Mom wasn't in on the plot; Shelby was grateful for that. "Oh, Dad and Garrett had some deal where if Garrett married me, he could buy Halford House," Shelby said with feigned nonchalance.

  "Garrett told you that?" Arthur Halford demanded incredulously. He was gaping at her, appalled.

  "Relax, Dad, Garrett didn't let the cat out of the bag. It was Paul. Laney told him the entire plot."

  Mrs. Halford looked upset. "I suppose Paul also told you about Laney and Oliver Tate. Your father and I are stunned! But we knew she was serious about him when she insisted on taking her dogs with her. We have no idea when she'll be home."

  "Who can blame Tate for being enchanted with Laney?" Art snapped. "He'll do the right thing by her, I'm sure. Meanwhile, what's this nonsense that Whitley has been spreading?"

  "Laney fed Paul some tale about the sale of Halford House being contingent on my marriage to Shelby." Garrett himself walked into the kitchen, still wearing the same jeans and shirt he'd had on last night. He looked tired and haggard, his usually alert blue eyes were bleary from lack of sleep.

  Without waiting for an invitation, he sat down at the table, reached for a mug, and poured himself a cup of coffee. Shelby stared at him, feeling too exhausted and too weak to react to him at all.

  "Why would Whitley say that? Why would Laney?" Art demanded. "It's not true."

  "And Laney, that angelic little Girl Scout always tells the truth, doesn't she?" Garrett said, his tone cool with sarcasm. "She would never make up some devious lie to explain away a man's preference for her sister over her. And Whitley was willing to believe what Laney said. He'd been dumped and his ego was bruised—he was probably glad to find a fellow reject in Shelby. He couldn't wait to come running and spread the misery." His eyes met Shelby's. "Does any of this sound plausible to you?"

  "It sounds plausible to me," Arthur Halford said. "Except the part about Laney being devious. She has a very playful sense of humor, you see. She was probably just joking with Whitley and that idiot took her seriously."

  "Well, so did I." Shelby stood. "I guess that makes me an idiot, too."

  "Yeah, it does." Garrett stood, also. "Glad to hear you admit it. Come on, let's get out of here. We have a lot to talk about." He reached for her hand.

  Shelby backed away. "I have nothing to say to you."

  "Because you think I have to marry you to get Halford House?" Garrett growled. "I already own the place. I bought it weeks ago. The bill of sale was signed the day I arrived in Florida. The date is on the title of ownership, if you want written proof."

  "That is absolutely true," Art affirmed, nodding. "But I asked him for a little time to, um, break the news to you. After he saw you for the first time, when you came into my office that day, Garrett asked me to let him break the news to you himself. He wanted to pick the time and place."

>   "And when was that going to be?" Shelby asked crossly. She was immediately annoyed with herself for speaking to him. After telling him she had nothing to say to him, she had intended to keep it that way. So much for her vow of silence.

  "It was going to be after we were married. Probably on our honeymoon," Garrett said bluntly. "I knew you'd take it badly so I hoped to … to…" He paused, frowning, and glanced at her parents. "Can we continue this discussion privately?"

  "You can't throw my parents out of their own kitchen!" stormed Shelby. "Or is this your way of throwing your weight around as official owner of Halford House? You want to make sure everybody knows that you own everything on the grounds and that your sacred word is law?"

  "No one is throwing us out, dear. We were on our way to your father's office, anyway." June Halford tucked her arm in her husband's, and headed out the kitchen door. Art was visibly eager to go.

  Alone, Garrett and Shelby faced each other. "They're gone now, so go ahead and say it," Shelby continued furiously. "You wanted to wait until our honeymoon because you thought I'd be so besotted by your overwhelming sexual technique that I wouldn't care that you'd lied and—"

  "You already were overwhelmed by my sexual technique, remember? If that was my plan, I'd have told you everything the first time I took you to bed. Or any time thereafter. But I wanted to be married to you when you heard about the sale, Shelby. I wanted you to know that Halford House was yours because you were married to the new owner."

  She stared at him, somewhat nonplussed. "You're going to have some smart, smooth answer to whatever I say, aren't you?" She scowled. "You are a slick one."

  "While I know you don't mean that as a compliment, it's a helluva lot better than a lying, manipulative snake and an arrogant creep. I sense my stock is rising."