by Shelly Ellis
“Mrs. Murdoch, again . . . I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I said I wasn’t offended,” Charisse muttered through clenched teeth.
“But I think we’ve started off on the wrong foot. I just wanted to introduce you to everyone at the clubhouse—that’s all.”
“It’s fine, Leila,” Evan said, hoping to put an end to this. “Thank you for being so helpful.”
“Yes, thank you, Leila,” Charisse said icily before walking off, leaving Evan and Leila standing near the entrance.
Leila slowly turned to him. “Damn, that sucked,” she whispered, looking shaken. “I can’t believe I put my foot in my mouth within five minutes of meeting your wife!”
He shook his head. “No, you didn’t. You simply got the full Arctic blast known as Charisse Murdoch. She turns it on everyone at some point—even me. You just got it sooner than most.”
“I guess I’ll tread carefully then so she doesn’t freeze me out again,” Leila said with a forced laugh before licking her lips.
Evan’s eyes drifted to those full lips, then followed the path of her pink tongue.
Leila wasn’t the only one who would need to tread carefully.
“Ev,” Leila said, though he was barely paying attention, still focused on that delectable mouth. “Evan!”
His focus returned to her face. “Yes?”
“I asked if we should follow her inside now.”
“Oh, yeah. Sure. Of course.”
She nodded and turned toward the country club’s glass doors. Evan’s eyes instantly rested on her ass and he inwardly chided himself and raised it to the back of her head.
Get it together, boy, he told himself as they strode into the air-conditioned foyer.
By the time they arrived at the clubhouse reception, the golf tournament was already in full swing. Evan and Charisse did their duty and acted as gracious hosts, though Evan’s attention was mutually torn between keeping an eye on his wife to make sure she didn’t become drunk and unruly, and trying not to keep an eye on Leila who lingered in the background, making sure everything ran smoothly. As the afternoon wore on, his smile became tighter and tighter. The muscles in his back and shoulders were rigid. The noise and clamor in the clubhouse were starting to give him a headache.
“Too bad you don’t drink,” Terrence suddenly said behind him. “You look like you can use one.”
Evan turned to find Terrence smiling at him while holding a bottle of some expensive craft beer, judging from the label. Terrence was wearing a red polo shirt and black khakis with golf gloves tucked in his waistband. He vaguely resembled a caramel-eyed Tiger Woods, though Evan knew his brother rarely played golf. Terrence had no problem looking the part of a wealthy golfer though. That was the one trait besides the eyes that Terrence had picked up from their father, George: He was all about looking the part, hence his huge double walk-in closet. He had a bigger wardrobe than most of the women he dated.
“So you finally showed up? Where the hell have you been? I was wondering if you were going to make it.”
Terrence shrugged and glanced around the crowded clubhouse room. “I was busy.”
“On a Saturday afternoon?”
Though, frankly, Terrence’s weekdays were often free too. He hadn’t held down a job since his modeling days back in New York.
“What can I say? The life of a player can be a busy one,” Terrence muttered. He then clapped his older brother on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s step out and get some air. All these old dudes smell like Bengay and mothballs.”
Evan glanced across the room at Charisse, who was huddled with several other women and held a glass in her hand. He couldn’t tell at this distance what she was drinking, but just seeing her sip from the glass made him nervous.
“No, I really shouldn’t leave our guests. It wouldn’t look good, you know?”
“You can’t babysit her all the time, Ev,” Terrence whispered, following the path of his brother’s worried gaze. “We’ll be gone ten minutes . . . fifteen, at the most. How much trouble can she get into?”
A lot, Evan thought, but his brother had a point. He couldn’t always keep an eye on Charisse—even if he wanted to.
He sighed. “All right. Let’s just make it quick. So . . . you know . . . the guests won’t notice I’m gone.”
Terrence nodded and they strolled toward the doors that led to the outside deck that overlooked the golf course. Evan gave one final glance at Charisse before stepping through the doors. He and Terrence walked in silence until they reached the end of the terra cotta deck. They both leaned against the wrought-iron deck railing and stared at the eighteen-hole golf course, squinting against the bright afternoon sun. The rolling hills of the golf green were dotted with sundry clusters of spectators who observed the players competing in today’s tournament. From this height, Evan could barely make out their faces. He caught the faint sound of the reception still going on inside the clubhouse, the rhythmic thawk of the golf clubs hitting balls, and the polite claps from the spectators.
“The turnout today looks pretty good,” Terrence said, taking another drink from his bottle.
“Yeah, we had a lot of entries and sponsors. We should bring in plenty of money for the charity.”
“I never understand going through all this fundraising stuff when the company could just write a big-ass check and call it a day.”
“We do write a big-ass check. It’s just better public relations to do it this way. It makes the company—and by extension, our family—look good.”
“And we all know how important it is to look good,” Terrence muttered dryly.
“I don’t know. You tell me. You’re the one with the six-figure tailor bill!”
“You got me there,” Terrence said with a laugh. “But I wasn’t always the big spender. That title used to belong to Paulette—until she up and married Bob the Builder.”
“I don’t know. She’s working her way back up to her big-spending days.”
In fact, one of the vice presidents at Murdoch Bank had given Evan a call earlier that week to apologize for the bank declining a withdrawal that Paulette had attempted to make on Tuesday.
“The teller didn’t know any better, sir,” the VP had said nervously into the phone. “She didn’t know that your sister was a Murdoch. When I was alerted to the error, we promptly contacted Ms. Williams to let her know she could still withdraw the amount she wanted.”
Evan had frowned as he listened to the VP’s explanation. “Why wasn’t she allowed to withdraw from her account in the first place?”
“Well,” the VP had said, clearing his throat, “you see, it was a considerable amount of money, Mr. Murdoch. Your sister has withdrawn a great deal in the past few weeks. It is bank policy that when an account reaches a certain quantity of withdrawals in that short of a time period, the teller has to alert the branch manager. A hold had been placed on the account. But again, I wanted to personally give my sincere apologies for—”
“How much has she withdrawn?”
“Uh . . . well . . . sir, that’s . . . that’s privileged information that I can’t—”
“How much?” Evan had repeated firmly.
“F-fifty-five thousand dollars.”
“Fifty-five thousand dollars? In a matter of weeks, you said?”
“Y-y-yes, sir.”
Evan had cursed under his breath before quickly regaining his composure. “Uh, thank you for your apology and relating this information to me.”
“No problem, Mr. Murdoch. I hope that—”
The VP didn’t get a chance to finish. Evan had hung up and sat at his desk, gazing out the floor-to-ceiling windows for quite a long while after that, deep in thought.
Now, as he recalled the phone conversation, he tried to understand it. What was going on with their little sister? It was her money and her business; he knew that. She had already chided Evan for treating her like a child, but he wondered why she was taking out so much cash. Did any of this
have to do with what was going on between her and Antonio? Those two had been acting pretty strange lately. There seemed to be a growing tension between them that was starting to make Evan worry. Something was wrong with Paulette. He could sense it. But he couldn’t talk to her about it without coming off as the meddling or overbearing older brother, or alienating her even more than he already had.
“Evan? Earth to Evan!” Terrence shouted through hands that were cupped around his mouth.
Evan blinked and turned to him. “Huh?”
“I asked you how things were at work. You still pulling sixty-hour weeks?”
“I do what I’ve gotta do,” Evan answered blandly with a shrug.
“Yeah, well, I bet it’s not that much of a burden now that she’s around.”
“Who’s around?”
“You know who,” Terrence said, while focusing his eyes on a spot at the other end of the balcony.
Evan looked in the direction that Terrence was gazing and saw Leila closing the balcony door behind her. She was whispering into her cell phone and had her back turned toward them. The instant he saw her, longing surged through him.
“Oh, damn,” Terrence said with a wince. “I saw that look. I thought it would be easier with her at the office now, having your buddy on the premises, and all. Is it really that bad?”
It was on the tip of Evan’s tongue to deny it, to say that he wasn’t being tortured on a daily basis by the sight of Leila, but he wasn’t up to lying to his brother today.
“I do what I’ve gotta do,” he mumbled again, still staring at her as she talked on the phone.
“No more indecent proposals though?”
“No,” Evan said through gritted teeth. “We’re . . .” He deeply exhaled. “We’re strictly professional.”
Just then, the door opened again. Evan watched as Dante stepped onto the balcony. He was one of the competitors in today’s tournament, which seemed to be winding to a close. From what Evan had heard, Dante had been one of the better golfers on the course. He watched as Dante walked toward Leila with his hand extended. She quickly ended her phone conversation and shook his hand. The two started to talk.
“Uh-oh,” Terrence whispered, “looks like Dante is working his voodoo on Lee.”
“No, he’s not,” Evan insisted, even as he frowned while he observed them laughing and talking. “He’s just . . . just introducing himself.”
“Yeah, I bet! A player knows a player, Ev. That guy isn’t just shooting the breeze over there. I know a hook-up when I see it.”
At that, Evan’s nostrils flared in anger. Oh, he’d be damned if he’d stand idly by and let any man, let alone his own brother, try to make a move on Leila! Not while he was there.
Evan turned away from Terrence and instantly started to walk in Leila and Dante’s direction until he was stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder.
“Wait,” Terrence said. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m going to talk to them, to say hi to Dante.”
“Uh-huh,” Terrence said incredulously. “You know damn well you were going there to cock block. Ev, she’s not yours.”
Evan shook off his brother’s hand. “I know that.” But every fiber in him at that moment said the opposite.
He continued in their direction and heard Terrence grumble behind him. His brother followed him reluctantly.
As they drew closer, Dante looked up and noticed them. He grinned, and Evan got the illogical urge to punch him squarely in the face.
“Hey! I was wondering where you guys were,” Dante said. “Ev, I was just talking to your lovely assistant, Leila, here about the tournament.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she said. “We hope to put it on again next year.”
“Absolutely. Absolutely,” Evan said, feeling the strain of the fake smile on his face. “Dante, you wouldn’t mind me borrowing my ‘lovely assistant’ for a second?”
“Oh,” Dante said, looking a little thrown off. “Oh, yeah! Of . . . of course not! Go right ahead.”
Evan took Leila’s elbow and steered her away. Terrence took his cue and instantly engaged Dante in a conversation about the tournament.
“Is everything all right, Ev?” Leila asked. Her face was now clouded with concern.
“Everything’s fine. Perfect. Nothing to worry about.” He reluctantly let go of her. “I just wanted to tell you that our day is going to be a little longer than I initially thought. I got a call earlier about one of our new contracts. I have to head back to the office to review a few issues that’ve been outlined by our legal counsel. We have a conference call scheduled at five and I hoped you could—”
“Sure.” She nodded. “I was planning to head back to the office after the tournament anyway. I had a few things to finish up from Friday that I didn’t get to because of last-minute errands for today’s event. I’d just called mom to tell her to come get me a little later than expected. She has my car today.”
“I can give you a ride to the office and back home if you’d like,” he quickly volunteered.
“That’s okay. You don’t—”
“No, we’re going the same place. It’s just . . . easier.”
“Really? But what about Charisse?”
“She can . . . she can get a ride with one of my brothers.”
Leila cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure she’d be all right with that?”
“Trust me. She’ll be fine.”
Leila seemed to contemplate his offer while gnawing her plump lower lip. Again, he fought not to stare at her mouth. Finally, she nodded. “Okay, thanks. I guess I’ll ride with you then.”
“Great! We’ll meet at the valet desk at four.”
“Four, it is,” she said before stepping away from him. “I should get back to work. Gotta wrap this stuff up.”
“Go right ahead. And Leila . . .”
She paused and turned back around to face him. “Yes?”
“Thanks for being so . . . so . . .” His words faded, making her laugh.
“So what, Ev?”
Beautiful. Sexy. Intelligent. Funny. For filling my days with a warmth that had disappeared for a very long time, he thought. But instead he said, “Thanks for being so dedicated. I appreciate all your hard work.”
She nodded again. “That’s my job! See you at four.”
She then turned around and walked through one of the open balcony doors.
Chapter 15
EVAN
As it turned out, Charisse didn’t take the news that Evan wasn’t driving her back to their mansion quite as well as he’d thought she would.
“What do you mean you aren’t driving me back?” she asked shrilly, yanking off her sunglasses as they walked out of the country club.
“Terry said he’d take you.” Evan inclined his head toward his younger brother, who was retrieving his Porsche from the valet. “He can even have you back in enough time for your exfoliation treatment.”
“But I don’t want to go with him! Why aren’t you taking me?”
“I have something to do back at the office. What difference does it make?”
Just then, Leila stepped through the door with her purse on her shoulder. “Ready to go whenever you are, Ev!” she announced perkily.
Charisse narrowed her eyes at Leila then glared at her husband. “Something to do at the office? By ‘something,’ do you mean her?” she asked while jabbing her thumb over her shoulder, gesturing to Leila.
Evan took a step toward Charisse. “That question was out of line.”
“Oh, go to hell! Don’t you dare lecture me, Evan Murdoch!” she snapped, drawing the valet and Terrence’s attention, as well as the gazes of a few people who were exiting the country club. Meanwhile, Leila was watching the whole scene unfold and had undoubtedly heard what Charisse had said. Leila’s cheeks were inflamed with embarrassment. She lowered her eyes. She looked like she wanted to melt into the floor.
Evan wrapped his arm around Charisse’s waist, a
gesture that would look affectionate to any casual passerby. But those who looked more closely would notice how tight Evan’s hold was around her and that Charisse squirmed in his arms. He steered his wife several feet away, to a secluded spot near a row of hedges. He then loosened his hold and Charisse shoved away from him.
“Now you are out of line! What kind of a fucking question was that? Are you drunk again?” he whispered.
“No, I’m not drunk! I’m perfectly sober and can see quite clearly, thank you very much!” She laughed coldly. Her blue eyes twinkled with malice. “I thought you were all about your work, that you had your head shoved so far up your ass that you didn’t have time for things that we normal human beings want—like passion or sex. I guess I was wrong. It seems you’d rather show your attention to a fat-ass waitress pretending to be your assistant than your own goddamn wife!”
“Pretending? You’re the one who’s been pretending, Charisse! You’ve been pretending to be my damn wife for the past five years!” he snarled before striding off.
When he returned, the valet already had the car waiting. Leila stood at the curb with Terrence at her side.
“Let’s go,” Evan muttered before climbing into his Maserati. Leila didn’t respond but instead silently climbed into the passenger seat.
Terrence rolled his eyes. “Fine! I guess I’ll handle Charisse then!” he shouted over the rumble of the engine as the car pulled off. “You’re welcome!”
Evan and Leila rode in uncomfortable silence for several miles with him staring out the windshield and her pretending to read a pile of notes in her lap. After a while, she loudly cleared her throat.
“The . . . the event went well,” she said. “We haven’t gotten the final tally yet on how much money was raised, but Loni said the numbers look good. We got lots of compliments from the sponsors too, as well as the tournament participants. They all seemed to have a great time.”
“That’s good,” Evan mumbled.
“Look, Ev, I’m . . . I’m sorry about what happened with Charisse back at—”
“Please don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. She and I would have had drama with or without you being there.”