Almost To The Altar

by Neesa Hart

  “If neither of you minds,” she said as she stood, “I‘m going to leave you to your male bonding and go to bed. I’ve got to go to work tomorrow.”

  Wil frowned at her. “Tomorrow’s Sunday.”

  “And I have a meeting with Edgar Collingham’s attor-!!ney.”

  “On Sunday?” Nikki asked.

  “He wants a complete rundown of all the costs associated with the auction. I don’t have time to do it next week, and he wanted the figures as soon as possible. Tomorrow worked best for both of us.”

  “What’s Edgar’s problem?” Nikki asked.

  “He thinks his stepmother is getting a disproportionate share of the estate.”

  “Because,” Wil guessed, “he thinks you’re hiding costs in the expenses associated with the auction.”

  “Something like that.”

  “Mostly the cars,” he said.

  She hesitated. “All right. Mostly with the cars. Edgar doesn’t understand what’s involved in the restorations, and the expenses look inflated to a person whose only opinion of his father’s collection is that it was a frivolous waste of money. I plan to meet Rich Proliss—”

  “The Rich Proliss?” Wil asked, evidently recognizing the prominent attorney’s name.

  “That’s the one. He’s Edgar’s attorney. I plan to meet him at the Collingham estate to visually inspect the cars. He’ll want to see the work you’ve done so far, and it’ll be easier for me to explain what’s been happening, and what expenses are involved, if I show him. Besides, Brandy Collingham plans to be present, and I liked the idea of meet-!!ing with Rich on her territory. I thought it gave her more leverage. Especially if Edgar happens to tag along.”

  Nikki snorted. “What a yutz. Just because his father married a hot-looking woman a third his age, poor little Edgar is convinced that he’s being cheated out of his due.”

  Elise shrugged. “It’s fairly common in families like this. People who think money solves everything should spend a day or two with the Collinghams.”

  “Well, hell,” Wil said, “how long have you known about this meeting?”

  “Since Wednesday.”

  “Then why didn’t you call me? Pop can run the numbers for you straight from the computer. You should see him on that thing. He looks like a mad scientist with a new toy.”

  Elise wasn’t ready to admit that she’d deliberately avoided calling him. “I have copies of all the invoices. I ran the report I needed myself.”

  “But we already have them computerized. We can sort the data two or three ways, and give you a projection analysis. If you’re dealing with Rich Proliss, you can’t be too prepared.”

  “He’s got a point there, Els.”

  Elise resisted the urge to ask her brother just whose side he was on. Instead, she shook her head. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. I’ve already got what I need. Thanks for the offer, though.”

  “Look.” Wil evidently wasn’t going to be deterred. “Why don’t I meet you at the estate tomorrow? Pop and I have been shuttling the cars out to the garage one or two at a time, so everything we’ve completed is housed at the Collingham place. I can show Rich and Edgar exactly what we’ve been doing, and give him a more detailed analysis of what costs are involved. That way, I get to take the heat, and you can concentrate on protecting Brandy.”

  Elise felt the trap closing in. It was her job to do whatever was in the best interest of Chester Collingham’s estate and his widow, even if it meant sacrificing her own sanity in the process. Still, she hedged, seeking blindly for a way out. “I don’t know…”

  “It makes perfect sense,” Wil insisted. “You’ve got to pick up your car tomorrow anyway. So have Nick drop you at the garage, then you can meet me at the Collingham’s. I’ll head over early to get things ready.”

  Nikki nodded. “That works great.”

  Oh, sure, she thought, just great. She grasped at the first straw she could find. “I need to go by the office first and pick up the report. I brought my file home, but I left the data report to run on the computer overnight on Friday. I’ll need it tomorrow for Rich.”

  “No need,” Wil said. “I’ll have Pop run whatever numbers you need on the computer. It’ll save you the trip into town.”

  Nikki nodded. “I don’t like the thought of you driving in and out of the city by yourself at weird hours, anyway. This is much better.”

  Irritated, Elise sent him a sharp look. “I’m thirty-five years old, Nikki. I know how to take care of myself.”

  “Yeah, well, thirty-five-year-old women can be just as vulnerable as younger ones. I don’t like it.”

  Wil pointed to her door. “And you need better locks.”

  Nikki’s gaze darted to her door, then back to her. “You don’t even have a dead bolt.”

  At their tag-team approach to controlling her, Elise’s temper snapped. “Will you two kindly cut it out?” she said. “I’m not a child, and if I want a security lesson, I’ll ask for it. If you want to do this tomorrow, then fine. It probably will make it easier on Brandy. That’s what matters. But this doesn’t mean I’m giving the two of you per-!!mission to take over my life all of a sudden.”

  Nikki’s expression turned suddenly serious. “Take it easy, Els. We’re just concerned.”

  She drew several breaths. A part of her knew she was acting irrationally, but they’d pushed her too hard. Damn Wil, she thought. He’d done this to her. In a matter of days, he’d unraveled most of what it had taken her ten years to build. With a mental effort at self-control, she gathered the threads of her dignity around her like a sheltering blanket. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be so cranky. I’m just tired. Roger is driving me crazy at work. This auction is sucking up all my time. This is the third weekend in a row I’ve had to work exclusively on details. If that’s not enough, I’m about to have the Collingham family feud on my hands.” She gave Wil a shrewd look. “I don’t need any more pressure right now.”

  Nikki either didn’t notice or ignored the undercurrent. “Understood. Look, I’m really beat. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have insisted that you invite me in. I know when to keep my nose where it belongs.”

  At his explanation, Elise felt a twinge of guilt. She’d been concentrating so hard on her reaction to Wil, she hadn’t taken time to notice Nikki’s fatigue. She should have spotted the dark circles under his eyes, the way his face was drawn taut, the stark outline of the needle-thin white scar on his chin that he’d received years before from a suspect’s switchblade. “You know you are always welcome here.”

  His gaze slid to Wil. “Not always.”

  “Always,” Elise insisted.

  Wil set his mug down on the coffee table. “On that note, I really am leaving.” He glanced at Elise. “What time to-!!morrow?”

  “I told Rich I’d meet him at the Collinghams’ at ten.”

  “Fine.” She refused to be intimidated by the slightly predatory look he gave her. “Tomorrow, I’ll make sure you get whatever you need.”

  She didn’t start shivering until he’d closed the door behind him.

  Chapter Six

  Asteady rain was pounding against her window when she awakened to the sound of rattling in her kitchen on Sunday morning. Her first thought was that if she failed to beat Nikki to the percolator, the coffee would taste like sludge. Her second was a panicky feeling that she’d be trapped with Wil inside the confines of the Collingham garage for the better part of the day. With a groan, she pulled her covers over her head.

  “Elise?” Nikki bellowed from the kitchen.

  “What?” she asked without lowering the sheets.

  “You up?”

  “I am now.”

  “Good.” The proximity of his voice told her he’d entered her bedroom. Seconds later, she was practically cat-!!apulted from the bed when he tumbled onto it. “What are you making me for breakfast?”

  She lowered the covers to glower at him. In spite of his shadowy beard growth, he looked rested and recovered from the
night before. It felt good to have him here, she realized. With the pressures of his job, and hers, they didn’t see each other as much as she would have liked. “I’m not.”

  “What kind of way is that to treat a guest?”

  She glanced at the clock beyond his shoulder. “It’s seven o’clock in the morning. I’m not ready to get up yet, and you’re not a guest.”

  “I know, but I’m going to run down to the hardware store to buy you a dead bolt. Since you didn’t have any eggs in your refrigerator, I figured I’d ask if you wanted me to stop and get something.”

  Despite herself, Elise felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. “You’re determined to fix my life, aren’t you?”

  “Right now, I’m just worried about your locks.”

  “Are you still going to drag me off to Wil’s today?”

  “Yep.”

  ‘Then you’re worried about more than my locks.”

  Nikki didn’t answer for a long time. “Elise, are you in love with Parker Conrad?”

  “Of course.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure.”

  “Then what was going on last night when I pulled into the parking lot?”

  She snuggled deeper beneath the comforting warmth of the blankets. “I thought you were going to keep your nose where it belongs.”

  “That was last night. This is this morning.”

  “Then trust me to know my own mind, Nikki. Especially in the light of day.”

  He rolled onto his side so that he could prop his head on his hand and study her face. “When did you get so good at arguing?”

  “About the time you kept stealing my dolls and holding them hostage. I didn’t have a prayer of beating them out of you, so I had to learn to negotiate. Besides, I’m a lawyer. It’s my job.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m a brother. Torment is my job.”

  “Stick to protection. You’ll get a lot farther with me.”

  “Does that mean shut up and go get the locks?”

  “Yep.”

  “All right.” He rolled to his feet. “I’ll leave it alone for now. But I’m watching you.”

  She turned her back to him. “And pick up a dozen eggs on your way home.”

  Three hours later, from the tiny window inside the garage where Chester Collingham’s collection was housed, Wil watched Elsa approach the large building. He knew her well enough to suspect that she planned to use the trio of people accompanying her as a kind of armor against him. But Brandy Collingham, looking gorgeous as ever in a figure-hugging black dress—the kind that had probably had a lot to do with the persistent nature of Chester Collingham’s high blood pressure during the latter part of his life—her stepson, Edgar, predictably attired in khaki trousers and a navy-blue blazer, and a white-haired man Wil identified as Rich Proliss, wearing a severe three-piece suit; looked more like a circus act than sentries.

  Elsa, he figured, would give her right arm to avoid a confrontation with him. The last thing in the world she wanted was to know why she’d responded to him the way she had last night. He’d spent the better part of four hours trying to wind down from the encounter. She probably didn’t have the first idea of how hard it had been for him to walk away from her, and unless he missed his guess, she didn’t want to think about it. Elsa found things easier to deal with if she ignored them. This time, he’d vowed during the long, sleepless hours of the previous night, things would be different.

  With a measured control, Wil tossed a grease rag over his shoulder and headed for the door. If she thought her little entourage was going to make him retreat, she was about to learn, the hard way, that he didn’t let anybody manipulate him.

  He leaned against the doorjamb, studying her with pure masculine appreciation as she picked her way along the gravel walk. If she’d thought to diffuse some of the sexual energy that seemed to pulse between them by dressing in a tailored black suit and red shawl-collared blouse, it hadn’t worked. His gaze skimmed the slim line of her legs, encased in sheer panty hose, the spot where her skirt ended at midthigh, the loose ponytail caught at her nape. His body kicked into overdrive. One of these days, somebody was going to have to tell her that the sight of a woman with a seemingly impenetrable façade was one of the biggest turnons in the world.

  Armed with a computer printout and a grease rag, he prepared to do battle.

  “Hello, Wil,” Elsa said when she stepped inside the garage a few seconds later.

  “Hi.” He allowed himself several seconds to absorb the impact of seeing her again, then flicked his gaze to Brandy. He’d met her several times before, and he’d always liked her. Despite the odd circumstances of her marriage, he found her charming, guileless and genuinely entertaining. The slightly pained look in her eyes told him too clearly that she found this encounter difficult, at best, and he mentally cursed Edgar’s selfishness in putting her through the ordeal. “Morning, Brandy.”

  She gave him a watery smile. “Hello, Wil.”

  Edgar’s beady eyes narrowed. “You two have met?”

  Brandy flicked away a tear with a black-gloved hand. Wil gave Edgar a glacial look. “It was my pleasure to service these cars for your father during his lifetime. I’ve met your stepmother several times.”

  Elsa coughed. “That’s one of the reasons I chose Wil’s firm to handle the restorations. I knew that he and his father were already familiar with the cars.”

  Edgar frowned. “If you serviced them while my father was alive, why do they need additional work now?”

  “That’s what we’re here today to find out,” Elsa said smoothly, before glancing at Wil once more. “Wil, I’d like you to meet Edgar Collingham, and Rich Proliss, his at-!!torney.”

  Wil took his time wiping his hand on the grease rag before he extended his hand to Rich. “Is that so?”

  “Yes.” Rich’s grip was solid. Wil knew from the calculating look in his eyes why Elsa was wary of this man. His protective instincts began to rumble. Rich’s gaze swept over the neat row of automobiles in the well-lit garage. “I’m here to ensure that my client’s interests are well pro-!!tected.”

  “And make sure Philpott, Philpott and Drake isn’t slipping money under the table to Chester’s widow.”

  Brandy gasped. Elsa gave him a censorious look. “Wil.”

  “Let me ask you something,” Wil said to Rich, ignoring the warning note in Elsa’s voice. “How many times did dear old Edgar go visit his father in the last five years of his life?”

  “It’s not my business to know,” Rich said, his tone sharp.

  “Well, I happen to know,” Wil told him. He gave Brandy an encouraging look. “I happen to know that Edgar hadn’t set foot on this estate since Chester married Brandy.”

  “Edgar didn’t approve of his father’s marriage,” Rich said.

  “That’s right,” Edgar chimed in, eyeing Brandy with obvious dislike. “I knew all she wanted was his money. I didn’t see the point in condoning his marriage by agreeing to visit while she was in the house.”

  At Brandy’s soft whimper, Wil took a step in her direction. When he slipped a supporting arm around her waist, she leaned into him. “I also happen to know,” Wil continued, “that he hadn’t been to see him for two years before the marriage, either.”

  “Mr. Larsen.” Rich’s expression turned predatory. “I don’t make it a point to get involved in my clients’ private lives. I make it a point to ensure that their interests are protected.”

  “All I’m saying is, the way I see it, Edgar lost interest in anything that happened here about seven or eight years ago. Brandy was the one who took care of Chester while he was dying. She was the one who kept him company, and made sure he got fed. Hell, toward the end, she was more nursemaid than wife. If you ask me, she ought to get every red cent out of this estate.”

  “But nobody asked you, did they?” Rich’s voice was so condescending, Wil almost laughed out loud.

  “Nope,” he said, slanting Elsa a know
ing look. “Nobody asked me. After all, I’m just a dumb mechanic. I couldn’t possibly know anything about something as complex as family loyalty and compassion. That’s a little out of my league.”

  Elsa frowned at him. “Wil, please.”

  Rich’s expression held an unmistakable challenge. “Frankly, I really don’t care, Mr. Larsen. My concern is that my client receives everything he’s entitled to under the law. Before today» I had some reason to suspect that your firm’s hand in the restoration of these automobiles was less than honest.” His gaze flicked to the spot where Wil’s hand rested at Brandy’s waist. “Now, I know it. I will need a complete inventory of what work has been done on the cars, as well as a justification for that work, and a projection of what you anticipate will be future costs. I warn you, if your calculations are off by a half cent, I’ll recommend that my client conduct a complete audit of the accounts.”

  “While you, no doubt, charge him two hundred dollars an hour,” Wil replied.

  Elsa groaned. Rich’s lips twitched in a self-satisfied smile. “Don’t tell me you’ve never charged a fifty-dollar labor fee to install a twenty-cent brake-light bulb.”

  “As a matter of fact, I haven’t.”

  “Well, then, let’s hope you’re a better mechanic than you are a businessman.” Rich held out his hand, “The accounts, please.”

  Wil dropped the four-inch computer printout into his hand. “Knock yourself out,” he told him, then forced himself to walk away. He’d been working on the 1938 Alvis when he heard Elsa’s car on the gravel driveway. The Alvis had always been Chester’s favorite to drive, and its engine needed the most cleaning. He scrubbed at the chrome plating on the radiator grille with a wire brush while he waited for Rich Proliss to admit that he couldn’t make heads or tails of the numbers and figures on the printout.

  He felt, rather than saw, Elsa approach him. “Smooth move, Einstein,” she muttered as she reached his elbow. “Next thing you know, you’ll have him siccing the IRS on you.”