A Precious Inheritance

by Paula Roe

  “If this is you trying to persuade me to sell you Dunbar’s manuscript, it’s going to take more than just one date.”

  She jerked back, glaring at those way-too-close charming blue eyes glinting in amusement. “Two dates, then?” she said tartly.

  His deep chuckle doused her anger, replacing it with arousal as his warm breath fanned over her cheek. She bit her lip to stop a groan escaping. When had he so thoroughly demolished her personal space? Worse, now she actually felt nervous.

  Nervous? She’d trained that useless emotion out of her system years ago. Yet here he was, making her sweat, and worry and… Breathe.

  If she stood very still, maybe he wouldn’t… Oh, no. She felt his mouth brush the top of her ear and suppressed a shudder as he murmured, “You are something, Vanessa Partridge. A Perfect. But you’re definitely not the type to offer yourself up, Indecent Proposal–style, am I correct?”

  “You…” She had to close her eyes to gather her composure as her heartbeat quickened. “You don’t know that.”

  “Hmm.” He eased back to study her, his eyes unreadable. “So what are you offering?”

  Her eyebrows went up. “What do you want?”

  His tight smile did nothing to calm her nerves. “I want many things, Vanessa, but I suspect you’re slightly out of my league.”

  She gave a soft snort of disbelief. “You’re kidding, right? You’re Chase Harrington, hedge fund billionaire and I’m just—”

  “Money and position are irrelevant. It’s all about what you’re born into, what you grow up with. Tell me, Vanessa Partridge…” He leaned in again, giving her a chance to back away, but she refused to let on that he intimidated her. “Are you actually offering to warm my bed in exchange for that manuscript? Or have I got that wrong?”

  She felt desire jerk her to life, sparking something deep down in her belly where it sat buzzing, heating her from the inside out. His eyes, his sudden quickening breath told her he was interested, but his cool, almost contemptuous eyes screamed the opposite.

  Lord, what was she getting herself into?

  “Because,” he continued softly, his head dropping and his mouth way too close to her ear again, “that would be very tempting.” He shifted, and now she could feel the heat coming off him in waves, despite the distance. It did nothing to quell the surge of need swelling up inside her, even though he’d yet to actually touch her.

  “Nessie!”

  He suddenly pulled back, cool air rushing in to fill the void, and Vanessa took a bolstering breath as her body cried out at the loss.

  They both turned to watch a tall, lean, impeccably dressed guy with dark floppy hair approach them, a broad smile showing off perfectly white teeth. His eyes were latched so firmly onto Vanessa that Chase felt the sudden urge to snake his arm around her waist and stake his claim.

  Which was all shades of ridiculous.

  “I haven’t seen you in ages, Nessie! How the hell have you been?”

  “I’ve been great,” Vanessa replied, turning her head ever so slightly to receive the cheek kiss. When her eyes met Chase’s, he could swear he saw them ice over.

  “James Bloomberg, Chase Harrington,” she said by way of introduction.

  As they shook hands, James frowned. “Harrington… Have we met before?”

  “No,” Chase replied smoothly.

  James tapped a finger on his chin. “You look familiar… A client, then?” At Chase’s blank look, he added, “Partridge and Harris? The Washington law firm?”

  “No.”

  “Well—” James turned to Vanessa with a broad grin “—soon to be Partridge, Harris and Bloomberg. Bet you’re kicking yourself now, hey, Ness?”

  “Indeed.” When Vanessa smiled, Chase could practically see the insincerity drip off her lips. He hid a smile of his own.

  “Ness and I used to have a thing going, years back.” James leaned in and added sotto voce, “It was all hush-hush. Her father never knew. Hey!” He barked to a passing waitress. “Get me a scotch rocks, can you?”

  “I see,” Chase said. He’d bet his left hand that Allen Partridge had known exactly what was going on with his daughter and this clown.

  “So, it’s been a long time, Ness. Two years, right?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Your father said you’re teaching? University?”

  “Toddlers.”

  “Ouch.” He gave a theatrical shudder. “And they pay you for that?”

  Chase watched Vanessa’s jaw tighten, her green eyes hard. “That’s usually the way it works. So, how have you been, James?”

  When he dragged his hand through his hair and shot her a charming, lopsided grin, Chase barely managed to hide an eye roll. Oh, come on! A totally practiced move if ever I saw one.

  “Working,” James said. “You know the drill. Heavy client load, no sleep.” He took the glass from the waitress without a backward glance or a thanks. Chase caught the woman’s thin-lipped glare before she turned away. “The workload is insane! But I can’t complain.”

  “I think you just did.”

  James paused, his glass halfway to his mouth, before he laughed. “I see you haven’t lost that old snarky streak, Nessie-girl.”

  She smiled. “And it’s good to see all your ass kissing finally got you somewhere, James.”

  James threw back his head and laughed again, then swallowed some scotch. “God, I missed that humor! Always good for a laugh, you were. So,” he added, running a frankly intimate gaze over her bare shoulders and neck, “fancy going out sometime?”

  Dude, I’m standing right here! Chase scowled, resisting the overwhelming urge to voice an immediate refusal. Jeez, what was wrong with him?

  With gritted teeth, he slowly swiveled to Vanessa, chomping down on his irrational reaction as he lifted one questioning eyebrow.

  She shot him a glance then returned to James.

  “Thanks, James, but—”

  “Uh-uh.” He gave another one of those sickening I’m-so-charming grins and put a hand on his chest. “Don’t break my heart by saying no. I don’t get much time off as you know, and we have lots to catch up on.”

  Huh. Chase knew exactly what kind of “catch up” this jackass had in mind. And to his surprise he felt that crazy heat of anger begin to swell. It flared when James the Jerk put a hand on Vanessa’s bare arm and gave it a gentle stroke.

  His fist involuntarily tightened by his side but instead of going with his instincts and clocking the guy, he said, “Yeah, Vanessa. You haven’t seen each other in years. You should catch up.”

  She shot him a look laced with irritation then shifted her weight, which forced James to drop his hand.

  Good.

  “Honestly, James, I’m totally shot with work and I—”

  “Ahhh.” He shrewdly glanced from Chase to Vanessa. “Not stepping on any toes, am I?”

  Chase heard Vanessa sigh. “No. But between work and my children, I have no spare time. Sorry.”

  “You have kids?” Alarm flickered across James’s face before he quickly cleared it and took a step back. And man, it just made Chase’s desire to punch him even stronger. “Yeah. Well,” James said, looking visibly flustered. “I gotta—” he tossed a thumb over his shoulder “—go mingle.”

  Vanessa nodded. “Sure. It was good to see you again, James.”

  The guy glanced from Chase, back to her. “Yeah. You too.”

  “Nice to meet you, Jim…Jimmy…Jimbo,” Chase said smoothly and gave him a not-so-gentle manly thump on the shoulder, gaining no small amount of satisfaction in James’s sudden frown as he left.

  Chase finally turned to her, taking in her tight-lipped countenance. “Why didn’t you say yes?”

  “You’re kidding me, right?” She smiled at a few passing people. “James Bloomberg is an ass and I don’t go out with asses.”

  “You did once.”

  “Yes, well, I was young. I learned by trial and error. Let’s go look at the displays.” Even a
s her mouth stretched to return the greetings from those she knew, there was something missing from her eyes. That, plus he could feel the tight coil in her body with every step.

  “Why do you do that?” he finally said as they neared a gently lit alcove displaying a massive hieroglyphic-laden vase.

  “Do what?”

  “You’ve had this look ever since we first walked in. The same one you had at Waverly’s. It’s like—” he searched for the right word “—a mask.”

  She blinked those perfectly made-up green eyes. “A mask.”

  “An aura, then,” he amended. “Whatever it is, it changes you. Makes you all cool and aloof. Untouchable.”

  She was silent for a dozen seconds or more, the white noise of conversation a persistent buzz in the background. “My sister calls it my game face,” she finally said with a faint smile. “You’d have one, too, if you spent your entire life in my parents’ world.”

  “Fundraisers, political dinners, lots of career opportunities.”

  “Exactly.”

  “The curse of being popular, huh?”

  Chase had meant to sound light, but it came out way too jagged and hard. So, of course, she frowned.

  “Says he who’s constantly surrounded by guys hanging off his every word. Hello, pot?” She lifted up her hand, mimicking a phone handset. “It’s the kettle here. You’re black.”

  Chase snorted. “It hasn’t always been like that.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Seriously. It’s not my reality.”

  “So what is?”

  “A small crappy town, with crappy people and even crappier kids.”

  That silenced her for a moment, until he added, “Your sister embraced the life.”

  Her smile became mocking. “Ah, yes. Juliet Partridge, the glamorous divorce lawyer to Hollywood’s stars. The success of the Partridge family. How proud my father was the day she passed the bar exam.”

  “You didn’t want to be a lawyer?”

  “My father’s dream, not mine. I realized that as soon as I got into Harvard. So I changed my major and he refused to speak to me for a whole year.”

  Such a casual reply yet so laden with hidden meaning, from the tilt of her chin to the way she didn’t meet his eyes. “So you went into teaching. Did he finally forgive you?”

  She took a sip from her glass and glanced over at the crowd. “Well, when I graduated he gave me a new BMW and got me a job at Winchester Prep.”

  “But not—” Her sharp, shocked intake of breath cut him off and he followed the direction of her gaze, to a group of old boys drinking and laughing near the sarcophagus display. “Something wrong?”

  Her piercing green eyes grazed him before skipping back to the men. “My father’s here.”

  Ah, right. That. He refocused sharply. “Which one?”

  “In the middle. Tall, silver hair, red tie.”

  As they both watched, a man leaned over and whispered something in Partridge’s ear: the next moment he was returning their stare.

  Vanessa groaned. “That’s done it.” She turned her back and took a deep swallow of champagne before stabbing him with accusing eyes. “Did you know he was going to be here?”

  Say no. Quick. But he’d hesitated a second too long, long enough for Vanessa’s eyes to narrow and her breath to stutter out.

  “You son of a—”

  “Vanessa.”

  It was impossible to ignore such a deep, commanding voice, even if the man wasn’t her father. Chase studied Vanessa as she swallowed again, gave him a furious glare then turned. But in that nanosecond, just before she turned, she did that thing again, the same donning of the mask when they’d first arrived.

  For her father.

  “Dad.” She smiled, all tight lips and controlled emotion as she leaned in, placing a polite kiss on his cheek. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t.” Partridge turned his steely gaze to Chase and offered his hand. “Allen Partridge.”

  “Chase Harrington.”

  They shook. Strong, firm grip, Chase noticed. Classic domination tactic.

  “Harrington,” Partridge repeated, finally releasing him. “Not related to the Boston Harringtons?”

  “No.”

  Partridge’s eyebrows dipped, still thinking. “So how do you know my daughter?”

  “Dad!” Vanessa interjected. “That’s none of your business.”

  Chase smiled thinly. “Don’t you really want to ask what I’m doing with her?”

  “Chase!” Now Vanessa looked mortified, a flush spreading over her cheeks.

  Partridge crossed his arms. “Yes.”

  “I asked her out tonight—she said yes.”

  “You do know she has two babies?”

  “That’s it!” Vanessa hissed, shooting a fire-laden glare at her father. “You have no right butting into my life like this!”

  Partridge appeared unruffled. “You’re the one who’s back in my ‘shallow, insensitive, controlling’ world now, Vanessa. And full disclosure is always better at the start of a relationship.”

  “Again, none of your business.”

  “And anyway, I know,” Chase interrupted. When Vanessa’s eyes snapped to him, he deliberately put a possessive arm around her waist. “There’s not much I don’t know about Vanessa.”

  Her eyes widened as her mouth dropped open to form an adorable little O. He could feel the rising tension in her body, even as her mouth tightened and she stood her ground. With the devil riding him, he left his arm there, binding her close.

  Chase nodded to the now-silent Partridge giving them the speculative once-over. “So you’re a library donor too?”

  “Corporate Gold Tier,” he said. “You?”

  “Same.”

  “Not a lawyer, are you?” Partridge smiled, yet his eyes remained humorless.

  “Financial analyst.”

  “Which company?”

  “I’m an independent.”

  “Right.”

  Oh, he was good, implying everything and nothing in that one little word, and for one second Chase questioned the wisdom of provoking the man. Unscripted questions meant unpredictability, and while Chase normally thrived on a certain amount of unpredictability during a normal business day, Allen Partridge, on the other hand, made an excellent living out of it.

  For the second time that night, discomfort shot through him.

  Vanessa remained silent, scrutinizing their exchange with a wary eye. “Chase runs a hedge fund.”

  “Right.” Same word, completely different meaning. This time, a small judgmental frown creased his brow. “So how were the last few years of the financial crisis for you?”

  “I didn’t bet on the crash or throw people out of their homes, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Good to know,” Partridge returned, although his entire manner suggested otherwise. “Where did you say you were from again?”

  “New York.”

  “I see.”

  And no doubt he’d be checking up on those details by the time the evening was over. Not, Chase thought, that he’d find anything incriminating. He’d flown under the radar for years. Still, the thought of this man rifling through his past rankled.

  “Juliet’s at the house,” Partridge was saying to an oddly silent Vanessa. “She just finalized a huge settlement between that movie producer and his second wife.”

  “Instead of getting them to reconcile? That’s a change. You must be thrilled.”

  Partridge frowned, flicked a glance at Chase, then back to his daughter. “I don’t think I like your tone, Vanessa.”

  “What tone?”

  “You know the one.” As Partridge continued to frown, Chase could practically see the inner debate raging: Should he push it with Chase there? Or wait until another time?

  Much to Chase’s disappointment, he chose the latter.

  “William’s been asking about you,” Partridge went on, his gaze scanning the crowd.
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  “Has he?”

  “Yes. He still has some of your things. You should give him a call.”

  She nodded. “I might.” She paused, frowning as Chase downed the rest of his drink. “What’s that look for?”

  “What look?” Partridge said.

  “Oh, come on, Dad. It’s me you’re talking to here.”

  He darted a glance back at Chase. “I was wondering if Chase was the father.”

  Chase’s sharp, shocked breath was drowned out as Vanessa choked on her champagne and ended up in a coughing fit.

  He thumped her on the back once, twice, before she shook her head and stepped out of his reach. “You’re kidding me, right?” she finally got out.

  Allen shrugged, unperturbed. “I thought—”

  “See, Dad, that’s where you go wrong every single time,” she gritted out. “You don’t have to think about these things because it’s my life and if I chose to screw it up, I’m totally okay with that. Chase?” Vanessa whipped her head in his direction. “Let’s go.”

  “Right.” He gave Partridge a polite smile. “Excuse us, will you?”

  And without further comment, he drew Vanessa away. They made it through the crowd, to the other end of the room, before halting at a massive cabinet that displayed the glorious artifacts of an entire dynasty of Egyptian royals.

  She dragged in a few deep breaths then placed both hands wide on the cabinet, staring down into the display with furious intensity. Her smooth brow wrinkled, long fingers curled around the cabinet corners, back tense and rigid.

  Man, was she steamed.

  “Who’s William?” He murmured to her profile.

  “The Principal at Winchester Prep,” she muttered then glanced up at him. “So, did you get what you wanted, setting me up like that?”

  Chase stuck his hands in his trouser pockets with a shake of his head. Apart from the last fifteen minutes, she’d been too perfect tonight, her interactions and conversation too artfully delivered. She’d obviously done this many, many times before; not surprising, considering who her parents were and how she’d been brought up.

  It was an act, one she’d been born to play year after year.

  Yet seeing her with those people out there, then her father and that James guy, only emphasized the fact Vanessa Partridge had left that social circle for a reason. So why did she hate that life so much? And why had she turned her back on it? There was obviously some friction with her father, but you didn’t just toss all that money away because of a family argument.