by Carol Rose
“You’re welcome,” he said, still attending to the plate in front of him.
“Now that you’re here, Mitchell,” his grandfather said, “we can talk about restoring the family villa.”
Mitchell looked up. “I can’t see much purpose in bothering with that old ruin. At this point, the family only consists of you and me. I’m sure we can find adequate housing here at the main building, should we choose to stay at The Cedars.”
“Just because we’re the only family members now,” Donovan said, suddenly irritated, “doesn’t mean we’ll always be. I had my honeymoon here. You’ll marry and have children one day and the villa is great for family vacations.”
“I know,” Mitchell said, a flash of annoyance on his face. “But you needn’t put the villa restoration into action on my account. Neither you nor I have any foreseeable need for a honeymoon spot.”
Barely conscious of the trickle of unease his words triggered, Delanie focused instead on Donovan who was bristling on the other side of the table. Seeing the need for an objective point of view, she reached out a soothing hand, patting his forearm. Settling fractious egos was one of her specialties.
“Maybe we should look at it differently,” she said diplomatically. “The villa could really be a wonderful asset. Situated where it is, just up the hill from the main hotel grounds, it would be a perfect spot for many purposes. I know of several corporations who lease exclusive retreats for their senior executives.”
With the fierce expression still in his eyes, Donovan protested, “The villa is a Riese family vacation home!”
“I know its historically been reserved for the family, but you could lease it out part of the time, just when you’re not using it,” she said with a coaxing smile, weaving her fingers with his. “Then you could reserve it for when you want it and it would still be a viable business expense.”
“Well,” the older man said, looking somewhat mollified, “that does make sense. But I don’t like the thought of strangers tramping through the place and tearing it up. Tons of memories there.”
“Of course, you have memories,” she agreed. “But you wouldn’t be leasing it to just anyone. Between the two of you, you must have hundreds of contacts, people you know, friends and business associates, who’d love a chance to stay in such a beautiful historic house.”
“Historic, maybe,” Mitchell interjected, an edge to his tone as he watched them from across the table, “but the place is falling down. I can’t imagine who’d want to stay there.”
Delanie shot him an admonishing glance. Anyone would think he wanted to upset his grandfather. “Not now maybe, but I can have it in perfect condition, ready to use, in twelve months.”
Releasing Donovan’s hand, she sent a beguiling smile Mitchell’s way. “Surely you have business contacts who’d appreciate being offered such a quiet retreat. It could be an asset for you.”
“Again, don’t do anything on my account,” Mitchell said softly, the hiss of drawn swords in his words.
Delanie blinked at the tone, frowning slightly before she said playfully to his grandfather, “See? This is exactly what I mean. A harried businessman who needs The Cedars ambiance to let loose and relax.”
“Yes,” Donovan agreed immediately. “Mitchell works too hard. He needs to book some relaxing time at the villa himself.”
“Why don’t we finish breakfast,” Delanie suggested, shooting a quick glance at Mitchell. “Nothing has to be decided about the villa right now.”
“Good idea,” Donovan said. “Here, my dear, try one of these muffins.”
Accepting the baked treat, she reflected on the prickliness between the two men. She was accustomed to dealing with people in the way of her business, getting hostile spouses and contentious business partners to agree on decor. Acting as a mediator had become second nature to her. But something about this situation didn’t feel quite right.
If she didn’t know from working with Donovan how much he loved his grandson and, in turn, how much he knew his grandson cared for him, she’d have thought the two had a generally conflicted relationship. That or Mitchell was being deliberately difficult.
She couldn’t think why this would be true.
Thankfully, Donovan seemed unperturbed by the awkwardness at the breakfast table.
“Have you had a chance to look around The Cedars?” he demanded of Mitchell, after a few minutes of eating in silence. “Lanie’s work in the main rooms is fabulous. And the guestrooms. Each one with its own individual look. She’s slaved over this place. Directed her crew like a seasoned pro and handled every detail. Lavished attention on the place as if it were her own.”
The older man beamed at her.
“Yes, I’m sure she’s a pro,” Mitchell said, his voice level as he lifted his glass of orange juice. “I can see the improvements, here and there.”
“Improvements?” his grandfather echoed the mild word in disbelief. “The place has never looked better. Lanie’s a miracle worker. She deserves three times what I paid her.”
Mitchell smiled at no one in particular, the effort cold.
Looking at him in surprise, she wondered if he really was upset with her for teasing him. Should she have stayed and introduced herself formally this morning? Woken up naked with the man and offered to shake his hand?
The thought tickled her irreverent sense of the ridiculous. Feeling mischievous, she slipped her foot out of her sandal and carefully stretched it beneath the table, finding Mitchell’s calf.
With her gaze carefully lowered to the table, she lightly stroked her bare foot along his leg
“Yes, my room was—“ Mitchell broke off in mid-sentence.
She could feel his stare, heating the skin of her face.
Delanie smiled at him demurely. Tickling his calf again, she restrained herself from batting her eyelashes at him like a silly moonstruck teenager. There was only so much a too-serious, seriously sexy man could take, after all.
“Yes,” Mitchell said again, “my room was fine.”
“I hope you found the bed comfortable,” Delanie cooed, giving into the urge to provoke him a little.
“Very comfortable,” Mitchell said, the bite back in his voice.
She smiled down at her plate, well satisfied at the results of her tweaking. He definitely needed loosening up, her knight.
The rest of the meal seemed to take forever, Delanie ate three more strawberries and part of a cheese blintz before giving up on food and allowing her fingers to knot together in her lap. Impatience ate at her, instead. She wanted to be alone with him, wanted to at last say all the things that lovers had to say between them. Wanted to hear him scold her for teasing him when he couldn’t really respond.
Whatever was bothering Mitchell, they’d work it out.
Donovan talked all the way through the interminable meal and they listened, she and Mitchell, each seeming to wait until the moment they were again alone.
Watching her lover out of the corner of her eye, Delanie noted the tension around his mouth and the crisp way he enunciated his words.
He felt the strain as greatly as did she. Soon, she promised herself, soon we can be alone.
And he’d kiss her again, she knew, make her swoon with passion in his arms.
To her relief, one of Donovan’s managers appeared at the older man’s shoulder after half an hour and whispered something in his ear about an old friend of his who was leaving The Cedars early.
“Of course, I’ll come see him off,” Donovan said jovially, tossing down his napkin. “I’ll catch up with you two youngsters later. Go on and finish you meal. I want you to get to know each other. I’ve got more plans—
He broke off, “But that’ll wait till later.”
Getting up, Donovan hurried off.
Delanie pleated her napkin, her gaze lowered to her lap, her every nerve stretched, her eagerness to get him alone nearly choking her. But she made herself sit there, fighting the urge to haul him onto the breakfast table and k
iss him for all he was worth.
“If you’re finished,” Mitchell said, a moment later, “perhaps we can walk down to the lake.”
She looked up at him quickly, her gaze colliding with his, darkly blue and unreadable. Behind the calm exterior, however, she sensed turbulence. He wasn’t used to having a lover play with him, that much was obvious.
Remembering everything they’d shared in the heated darkness hours earlier, she found herself feeling nervous as she murmured agreement and rose from her chair.
Was he pleased to have found her so easily after she snuck away this morning?
Surely, yes. The thought didn’t even bear consideration.
They walked through the open French doors, just as they had the night before, only this time there were no stolen kisses on the veranda, no hot blue eyes devouring her.
Glancing over at him as they walked down the steps to the lawn, Delanie calmed the puzzlement in her chest. He was acting oddly quiet. Still, this was all new to Mitchell, she reminded herself. He’d probably never expected to fall in love like this—head, heart and soul in one clean swoop.
On the other hand, she’d been expecting him her whole life.
They walked down the sloping green lawn toward the bath house and the aqua pool situated at the lake shore. Walking next to each other, neither said anything, the crunch of the immaculate lawn beneath their feet the only sound to mingle with the morning birdsong.
“Mitchell!” she said, turning toward him as his name burst out of her as they crossed the lawn, her impatience getting the better of her.
“We’re almost there,” he responded implacably, gesturing to the empty terrace around the pool. “Let’s talk where we’ll have some privacy.”
Walking beside him with excitement tingling in every cell, she said nothing else as they traversed the pool patio and went down a set of steps that led to a picturesque boardwalk along the very edge of the small lake.
Stopping there where they were completely alone, Mitchell turned toward her as he leaned against the white wood railing.
The breeze off the lake came up, flirting around them and Delanie waited for him to speak, her heart jumping in her chest.
Something told her that Mitchell needed to take charge.
A moment later, he turned toward her abruptly, his cold blue gaze slamming into hers.
“You’re not getting a penny out of me. I’m not paying you off.”
“What?” she gasped, shock reverberating through her.
“This game you’ve been playing,” he gestured toward The Cedars. “I’m not letting you get away with a cent more than you’ve already seduced out of Donovan.”
“Are you kidding?” Delanie demanded in disbelief.
“No.” The eyes that had devoured her hungrily last night now sent a blast of artic chill down her spine.
She stared at him, the world tilting in front of her eyes. Reaching for the railing to steady herself, she felt as if she might actually fall down.
“I never seduced anything out of Donovan,” she whispered a disbelieving protest.
“If you get off on screwing a man forty-five years older than you, fine,” Mitchell said, disgust and disinterest echoing in the words, “Go get yourself another pigeon. After last night, Donovan Riese is off-limits to you.”
She looked at him in shock, hardly able to think over the thundering in her head. “You actually think I’m sleeping with Donovan?”
She clutched at the railing, the wood biting into her fingers.
Mitchell’s mouth quirked into an ugly smile. “Don’t bother denying it, Lanie. I saw the tender hand-holding at breakfast. You were a pro at handling Donovan, and I know my grandfather. For the past six months, he’s talked of nothing, but you and this damned resort. Mostly, you. I know you’ve been trying to get him to marry you from the start.”
“I haven’t!” she cried. “He’s been a friend. Nothing but a good friend.”
“What ever you call it, it’s done. He’s worth millions,” Mitchell told her with chilly contempt. “I’m sure that was enough for you to overlook the obvious drawbacks to being the mistress of a man old enough to be your grandfather. But it’s through. I want you to pack your stuff and leave—now.”
“I’ve never slept with Donovan!” she insisted desperately, unwilling to let him believe so badly of her. “He wouldn’t—I wouldn’t—“
Slicing an impatient hand through the air, Mitchell said, “Save it! I came up here this weekend specifically to deal with this situation and buy you off—“
“Mitchell, I haven’t slept with your grandfather!”
“Then he’s not getting very good value for the money he’s given you,” Mitchell declared brutally, his gaze scraping over her body in a way it hadn’t the night before.
“Money? What money?” she asked wildly.
“The checks he’s been giving you, the ones marked miscellaneous. A hundred thousand once, ten and thirty thousand two other times.” Mitchell stood next to the railing, his hands shoved into his pants pockets, his face hard as stone.
Delanie shook her head in desperate denial. “Expenses. Renovating a place like this costs a huge amount of money. Rugs, artwork. Donovan always wanted me to have enough capital to operate, but it never meant anything! Nothing like that!”
Mitchell’s smile grew uglier. “Don’t think I’m stupid, Lanie. I got the preliminary report on the investigation I ordered on you. I know about the married boyfriend in college, the law professor who helped you set up your business and the lover who’s restaurant went bankrupt right before you dumped him. Money’s what motivates your ‘love’.”
“You had me investigated?” she whispered, a desperate sense of disorientation gripping her.
“Hell, yes.” The smile on his face grew colder still. “Never do dirty business without knowing all the dirt. Every businessman knows that rule.”
“You don’t understand,” she said, the panic in her chest making the words halting. “I didn’t know he,…John…was married…the others were—you just don’t understand.”
Mitchell looked away from her, his jaw taut. “If I didn’t understand before last night, you opened my eyes. I don’t care what kind of game you’re playing, but you picked the wrong man—“
“I’m not playing any game!” She reached impulsively out to him, her hand on his arm.
He stared down at where her fingers clasped his the sleeve of his suit coat.
Snatching her hand back as if burned, she glared up into his arctic eyes. “How can you think these things about me? Last night—“
“Is better left forgotten.” He bit the words out, the abrupt enmity in his face unbearable.
“But we—“
“Copulated in the dark like animals,” Mitchell finished, anger suddenly blazing from him. “I hope you got some pleasure out of it, because that’s all you’ll get.”
“What do you think I wanted out of it?” she demanded in desperation and anger.
“I imagine, it seemed like the perfect plan to you,” he sneered, hostility crackling in the air between them. “You’re boffing the old man, coaxing thousands of dollars out of him, wheedling half-ownership of The Cedars away from the family—“
“What!” she gasped. “I didn’t!”
“—I’m sure a wedding was the next objective.”
Delanie shook her head, dazed. The air seemed too thick to breathe, the sun too bright on her face.
“But you took a misstep last night, Lanie. If you thought to blackmail me into agreeing to your marriage to Donovan—“
“How would sleeping with you accomplish that?” she cried.
Mitchell looked at her as if she were a worm under his shoe. “By threatening to tell your sweetheart that his grandson knowingly poached on his territory and sampled your wares. Seduced you.”
“My God! I would never—I’m not his territory.”
“Not anymore,” Mitchell agreed, the words venomous. “The minute you dire
cted your come-hither smile in my direction, you messed up in a major way. I didn’t know your name, but you knew who I was last night, didn’t you? You heard me talking to Artie, heard him call me by name.”
“Yes,…I knew.” Her hesitant admission came out soft, bruised almost by the onslaught.
“You knowingly encouraged me, invited me out to the veranda and begged me to ‘take you’.”
Delanie flinched, his brutal recitation taking a cherished moment and smearing it in the mud.
“So now, I not only know that you’re a conscienceless, amoral gold digger, you’re also as faithless as a cat. You won’t ever be loyal to your old goat of a boyfriend, will you? Even if he does have millions for you to steal. Just now at breakfast with him sitting beside you, you were playing footsie with me. With your boyfriend right there!”
“He’s not my boyfriend!” she fired back, the edges of her vision growing fuzzy.
“Then why do you let him put his arm around you and call you ‘sweetheart.’ Why are you taking his money?” Mitchell demanded.
Delanie fought to retain consciousness, clinging to the rail to keep from collapsing. “Did Donovan tell you we’re sleeping together?”
“No,” Mitchell said, “being Old World, he wouldn’t want to besmirch your reputation. But I’ve known my grandfather long enough to know the pattern of his amatory adventures. You take the cake, lady. You top them all. I might have let this little relationship continue, but you stepped over the line when you started trying to get The Cedars. I knew I had to do something when Donovan hinted that he wanted to give you property that’s been in our family for years?”
“What property?” she asked wildly.
“The Cedars, itself,” he said in a derisive tone, as if she well knew the answer to her own question.
“You can’t be serious,” she said faintly. “I love you. I’d never do what you’re suggesting.”
The ugly sneer on his face grew more pronounced. “I’m not interested in the kind of ‘love’ you’re offering. I can buy that on any street corner.”
Reeling back as if he’d slapped her, Delanie leaned heavily on the railing, fighting the buzzing in her ears.