"She was a little dry," Chess said, indicating the plant. "Not very," he added hastily and roved his eyes over her jungle. "But I wanted everyone to be squared away for the move."
Cookie had become inexplicably fascinated by the round bulge of Chess's bicep and the vein that snaked across it. She almost didn't catch his words. "Er, the move?"
He smiled pleasantly. "You're moving into my house. Today."
"What?!"
"Tomorrow at the very latest." Chess set the fern down on her kitchen counter.
"Now, wait a minute here, mister." Incensed, Cookie, stepped into the living room. "So far, I've gone along with every single thing you wanted, but this is too much!"
Despite her obvious ire, Chess didn't lose his benign smile. He leaned back against the sink, his arms spread-eagling the counter to either side. A mat of dark hair covered the top of his chest, arrowing into a dark line that led to his belt. His shirtless state didn't seem to affect his composure in the slightest. "So far, everything I've suggested has been logical and necessary."
"But—"
"You're going to be moving in anyway once we're married. I can't be expected to spend another night on your floor."
"The floor! I gave you the sofa. Never mind. If you don't like it here, then I can stay at your place."
"That's exactly what I'm suggesting."
"Oh." Cookie suddenly realized something elemental. "My apartment! Oh, my God. I'm going to have to give this up?" If not now, then when they got married.
He gave a light cough. "I'm afraid so."
"No," Cookie moaned, putting a fist up to her lips. She loved her little apartment. "What if I—?"
"No." Chess anticipated her suggestion. "You cannot continue to pay the rent during the four months we're married. It would be too easy for your father's lawyers to find out about it."
"But Chess!" She gave him a longing look. "How am I ever going to find another place so good—and so cheap?"
His mouth split into a wide grin. "My dear woman. If this launch succeeds, you can go out and buy yourself a place."
Cookie widened her eyes. She hadn't thought of that. "But what if the launch doesn't succeed?"
His grin exploded into a deep bark of laughter. "If it doesn't succeed, then we'll both be looking for cheap apartments to rent!"
He'd laughed! Cookie couldn't remember ever seeing Chess laugh. A sea of lights danced in his eyes.
"What?" Chess asked her, his eyes still sparkling.
Had she shown something in her own face? Pinkening, Cookie shook her head. "Nothing. I— Do you have a date in mind for the wedding?"
"Good question. Like I said, it has to look real or all of this will be for nothing. On the other hand, I need that financing."
"Even if I could get invitations out tomorrow, you're supposed to send them six weeks in advance of the date—"
"Let's cut that in half."
Pressing her lips together, Cookie nodded. "Fine. But until then, I'm keeping my apartment."
His eyes widened. "You are moving—today!"
The argument was certain to have escalated from there but for the sound of a brisk knock on the front door. Both Chess and Cookie halted, staring at each other.
Chess recovered first. "I'll get it." He grabbed his shirt on his way to the door. "Stay back. If this is some irate boyfriend, I don't want you involved."
Deliberately ignoring Chess's command, Cookie was already halfway to the door when Chess opened it.
Alex stood outside. His jaw dropped when he encountered Chess, who was pulling on his white shirt. "What are you doing here?" Alex asked. To Cookie's relief, Alex sounded more frightened than outraged.
"That's a long story." Chess's eyes went down Alex's rumpled clothes. "You didn't make it home last night, did you?"
The fright in Alex's expression gave way to defensive ire. "What business is it of yours?"
Cookie gave Chess a firm push to the side. "Alex, you look terrible." She took his hand. "Come in and tell me what happened."
Alex gave Chess a resentful glance as he let Cookie lead him into the apartment. "Nothing happened," he mumbled. His gaze took in the sheets thrown on top of Cookie's sofa. "What's the story here? Did Chess spend the night?"
Cookie met Chess's eyes behind Alex. "That's...rather complicated to explain. Sit down at the counter. I'll make some coffee."
Chess watched as Cookie began to bustle around the kitchen. Alex inspired that sort of response from women. Tending and nourishing. It was a fact that their common mother doted on her younger son. Chess told himself that Kate had been a lot older when Alex had been born, more mature. That plus her different situation, comfortably married, had fostered normal maternal behavior when it came to Alex.
But all the rationalizations in the world didn't help as Chess watched Cookie run her hand through Alex's hair, her eyes dark with worry. Powerful pain caught Chess in the chest. Turning swiftly, he made for the sofa and the rest of his clothes.
"I was with friends," Alex said, in reply to Cookie's question.
Cookie gasped. "You're hurt!"
Chess glanced over to see her take hold of Alex's right hand.
Alex pulled his hand out of her grasp. "It's just a scrape."
"Your friends did that to you?" Cookie wanted to know.
Chess pulled on his socks.
Even as Cookie scolded her little brother, she was getting the antiseptic from a lower kitchen drawer. From the time Chess had been strong enough to open the bottle, he'd been spraying his own antiseptic. Now Alex stoically gave up his hand for Cookie's ministrations.
"It wasn't their fault," Alex said. His voice lowered. "We were playing cards. I got mad at myself, and I tried to put my fist through a wall. Let's drop it, okay?"
Cookie gave a quick glance in Chess's direction. "Okay," she said. "For now."
That was another thing Chess was expert at: knowing when he wasn't wanted. He slipped into his shoes and grabbed his jacket. "I'll call you later," he told Cookie, making for the door.
"Wait just one cotton-picking minute, mister," she said.
Chess halted, his hand on the doorknob. He was amazed by the quantity of power she could put into her voice. Slowly, he turned. "Yes?"
"You aren't walking out on me now." Cookie's voice was low but still replete with that aura of command. She moved out from behind the kitchen counter, as intent as a preying cat.
Chess had never seen her like this and found himself mesmerized. "I thought you'd be more comfortable—"
"Explaining this on my own? Think again." She was practically hissing at him. "I had to handle your mother already, Chess, after you'd managed to thoroughly rile her. I'm not doing this one by myself."
"Oh." He spared a glance toward Alex.
Alex was glaring at him. "What is going on here?"
Cookie turned around at a guiltily slow speed. "Chess and I...are going into a sort of business venture together."
Chess sighed and threw his jacket back on the sofa. "We're getting married."
Alex's glare turned violent. "The hell you are."
Cookie threw Chess an exasperated look. "That was helpful."
Chess lifted a shoulder. "You wanted my input."
Cookie hastened back toward Alex at the kitchen counter. "It's purely a business arrangement. I can explain."
Alex didn't take his eyes off Chess. He appeared, injured hand and all, more than ready to attack. Slowly, he rose from the stool. "I think I'd rather Chess explained."
Cookie's glance toward Chess was warning.
But Chess, for the first time in his life, saw something to like about his half-brother. He was trying to protect Cookie. What Alex didn't know was that Chess had the same goal.
Chess's voice lost a great deal of its earlier edge. "You may remember that your father willed your sister all of his stock in Scents Allure. That's a third interest in the company. The only way she can get her hands on it, however, is to marry." He paused. "She's ma
rrying me."
Alex's eyes narrowed. "So you can get your hands on her stock."
Chess couldn't help smiling at how quickly Alex had grasped the situation. "She'll be well compensated."
"Oh, right."
"It's true. I'll buy her out at twice the value of her stock right now."
Alex studied him a moment. Then he spared a glance toward Cookie. "Is this for real?"
With her eyes wide, she nodded.
Alex turned back to Chess. "And when is this buyout supposed to happen?"
Increasingly pleased by Alex's persistence, even if it did put him on the spot, Chess took a seat on the sofa. "In January I'll have the money to buy her out. She can be free then to do whatever she pleases." For some reason, he didn't feel like mentioning the divorce straight out.
Alex turned to Cookie. "This is screwy."
"I thought so, too, at first," Cookie confessed. "But I'm convinced this is the right thing to do, both for the company and for everybody involved."
"Do you have this down in writing?" Alex asked.
"I can do that," Chess answered for her. "I'll even have a lawyer draw up some papers if you want."
Alex smirked. "Sure. Your lawyer." He looked at Cookie. "I can't believe you'd go through with this. Marriage!"
"It's just a business deal," Cookie reiterated.
Chess silently noted that the way she kept harping on the business side of things was starting to irritate him.
"But you know Chess," Alex remonstrated. "There's a million and three things he isn't telling us."
Cookie let her chocolate eyes meet Chess's.
"No," Cookie said. "He's told me everything."
Chess stopped breathing. In that moment he felt a healing balm that completely made up for the way she'd earlier fussed over Alex. She believed him. She trusted him.
She had to be the only person in the world.
Chess shifted his gaze toward Alex. "Maybe you and I can make our own deal."
"What?"
Quickly, Chess thought about what was important to an eighteen-year-old male. Respect, he told himself. And money. "Frankly," Chess said aloud, feeling his way with care. "We need your help."
He was gratified by the light that came into Alex's wary eyes. "Such as?"
"Such as not telling the lawyer your father hired that you saw I was sleeping on the floor. David's attorney won't give her the shares if he thinks this is a...mere business arrangement."
A lot of the rigid tension in Alex eased. "So you agree on that," he muttered, in obvious relief.
For now.
Chess faltered. Where had that idea come from? Surely he wasn't thinking of changing the parameters. Hastily pushing the thought to one side, he went on. "I tell you what. You want to keep an eye on things, make sure the deal is working out? Very well. I'll give you a job at the plant."
Alex's eyes widened.
Chess held his breath. Since graduating high school in June, Alex had so far simply hung out at home. Chess didn't know if he was even interested in employment.
"A job?" There was awe in Alex's voice. "No shit."
Relieved, Chess slowly released his breath. "That way you can survey the situation, keep tabs on me and the company. It won't be a very glamorous job, but I started at the bottom myself."
Alex squared his shoulders. "I wouldn't ask to start anywhere else."
Out of the blue, Chess suddenly realized it would be interesting to find out if Alex had inherited their common grandfather's 'nose.' Or maybe he had some other talent the company could use. This might not be so bad. It could turn out to be kind of...interesting.
"Fine." Chess rose to his feet. "Come by the office some time this week. Ask for Diana. I'll tell her to set you up somewhere appropriate. Now I have to get going."
Cookie scrambled off her stool. "Let me see you to the door."
Chess was glad he waited for her.
Her eyes looked up into his with charming candor as she rose on her toes to whisper at him. "You know, when you half try, you can be a remarkably perceptive human being." Then she brushed a quick, shy kiss against his jaw.
She stepped back, her face expressing an immediate shock at her own gesture. Clearly, she hadn't planned to do that.
At the same time, Chess's arm shot out. He caught hold of her pink robe sleeve, unwilling to surrender the unexpected sweetness of the moment.
"Rebecca." He cleared his throat. "I'll have the moving men come over today to pack you up."
She opened her mouth. "No." Once again, she projected tremendous power in her voice. A steel core resided beneath all her soft femininity.
That steel could play havoc with his plans, but Chess had to admit it sent a thrill through him nevertheless.
Speaking in a tone too low for Alex to hear, Chess put a little steel of his own in his voice. "It's either the moving men, or you're sharing that little bed with me the nights you aren't spending in my guest bedroom."
Cookie's face didn't redden as he'd expected. It paled. "Very funny, Chess."
"You think I'm kidding?" He was goading her, true, trying to get his own way in this, but he didn't like the panic he saw flitting across her face. Why did she seem to consider him a monster?
"Okay," Cookie suddenly decided. "I'll sleep in your guest bedroom. But I'm keeping the apartment until the wedding vows are said."
Chess nodded. That solved the problem. All he'd wanted was to get Cookie out of this apartment at night. If she wanted to continue paying rent on the damn place until the wedding took place, so be it. "I'll see you tonight, then."
"Oh, Chess." Her voice again stopped him as he turned to go. But this time it was all soft. No steel at all.
Slowly, he turned back to face her. It was a fact that her softness was just as exciting as the steel.
She bit her full lower lip as their eyes met. "Are you going to pick me up," she asked, "from the theater?"
A novel sort of pleasure rushed through him. She was asking him, needing him. "Of course." His voice sounded gruff. Cookie needing him was just as good as Cookie trusting him.
He made his way down the rickety stairs of her apartment building in a ridiculously cheerful frame of mind. Oh, he knew his good mood was counterfeit; he knew there'd been no real affection in her simple request. But he let himself stay fooled for a few minutes anyway. A few minutes of love and warmth here and there—what could be the harm?
~~~
Kate closed the office door behind her and leaned against it. The serene composure she'd kept on her face disintegrated, no doubt revealing her utter panic.
Not again. This could not be happening again.
She walked over to her desk, a place where she usually felt in control and secure. A red light was blinking on the fourth extension of the telephone. That red light reduced the power and security of her desk to nothing at all.
N.J. Williams, the intercom had announced. Telephone call for Kate from N.J. Williams. Only Kate knew who N.J. Williams actually was. She pressed her finger down on the blinking red light and picked up the receiver. She closed her eyes. Her voice was no more than an angry whisper. "What do you want?"
"You know what I want, Kate." The voice on the other end was both familiar and not familiar. Deep and husky, it rasped the nerves along her back.
Her fingers tightened around the receiver. "I won't pay you any more. You got enough the last time. More than enough."
"I don't want you to pay." The voice managed to sound aggrieved. "I never wanted you to pay. I wish you'd understand that."
Kate's eyes found David's photograph on top of her desk. She kept her gaze fixed on his friendly smile, willing herself to some measure of strength. "You're no more than a vulture," she told the voice. "Despicable."
"I only want what's mine," he complained.
Anger leaped in Kate's pulse. "He doesn't belong to you!"
"He does." The voice sounded absolutely positive. "As much as he does to you. And you know it." Without anoth
er word, without even delivering his next threat, the voice hung up the phone.
Kate replaced the receiver with hands that shook violently. She'd been going along, living her life quite pleasantly, and then this tornado had swept in and threatened to leave everything in ruins.
It was all going to be destroyed, everything she'd worked for all these years. Everything she'd sacrificed was going to be for naught. And all because of the man on the phone.
Kate put a hand to the bridge of her nose and shut her eyes tightly, wishing she could shut out the danger. He'd ruined her life once before. It had taken her eighteen years to put the pieces back together, eighteen years before she'd found David Thibideaux, bless his soul. He'd helped her repair the damage. He'd used his own money to put the struggling business back on its feet. And lastly, he'd given her his love—and another son.
Opening her eyes again, Kate picked up David's picture. His twinkling blue eyes smiled out at her.
"Lord, I wish you were here!" Kate pressed the picture against her chest. "I'm so scared, David. I don't know what to do."
She closed her eyes once more and breathed in deeply. Sometimes if she asked hard enough and listened carefully enough, he would answer her. Oh, it wasn't really David. She knew that. But something deep inside, the part that had loved him, would know what he would have said. Kate waited, clearing her mind, trying to relax.
The answer came.
Trust.
Trust? Kate blinked her eyes open, bitterly disappointed. Trust? Trust who? What? No. Trust—? That was no answer at all.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Can you tell me where to find Chester Bradshaw's office?" Feeling self-conscious under the scrutiny of the grizzled man in the wrinkled white lab coat, Cookie pulled on the lapel of her dove-gray tailored suit. Large machinery rose to one side of them in the central atrium of the Scents Allure manufacturing plant. Pipes travelled from one large vat to another.
"If I tell you depends." The man squinted at her. He wore a name tag that said 'Henry Dublin' and underneath that, 'Head Technician.' "Who are you and who let you in?"
"The, um, security guard at the front door let me in. You see, I'm Mr. Bradshaw's fiancée." Cookie coughed, proud at how smoothly she'd gotten out that last word. Or maybe she should have felt dismayed. It had become surprisingly easy to claim this relationship to Chess after living with him for the past two-and-a-half weeks.
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