Trophy Wives

by Jan Colley

  “Farm? But don’t you remember…? You can’t rewrite history, son.”

  Ethan smiled into the phone. “I’m going to try.”

  The smooth hum of the Nissan wasn’t a bit like the Alfa’s deeper, frothy growl. She supposed she would miss her status symbol but she’d only had it a few months. Tom had grumbled, but Lucy insisted it would add class to the operation. She wasn’t aware back then of how much financial trouble they were in.

  A sign flashed by indicating the turn-off for the inland route to the mountains. Why was she not driving to the airport? The smart black briefcase on the passenger seat positively groaned with ready money. Enough to live on for a good while, she considered.

  Lucy checked the rearview mirror and indicated a lane change. She noticed the same line by her mouth she had seen that morning, making up. The iron band around her torso seemed to tighten.

  Damn him. Wrinkles. A pain around the heart. A ruby-red suit. I’d love to see you in red.

  But up ahead the morning sun glistened off a jagged jawline of fresh-coated mountains. She forced the sadness away. If she gave in to it, she had better be prepared to spend the rest of her life running. And if thinking of a way to save her land kept her from giving in to the heartbreak that would shatter her, that was as good an excuse as any in a life full of excuses.

  By the time she parked outside the lodge and marched up to the door of Tom’s office, she was resolute. Not nice, malleable little Lucy now. She knew she was strong. Ethan had given her that, if nothing else.

  For the last two weeks, Tom had been subdued and surprisingly receptive to her suggestions. He felt guilty about the debts and his part in Ethan’s departure, for which he had confessed all and apologized repeatedly. She understood better why Ethan had run.

  That didn’t make it any easier to bear.

  Tom had better appreciate her efforts today. She’d raised enough to cover their creditors and Tom’s personal gambling debt—assuming he had disclosed everything. But they would have to generate a lot more income to cover the payments for the part-mortgage he had taken out against the property.

  Resolute maybe, but she still crossed the fingers of her free hand.

  Her heels clicked across the wooden floor, quick and sharp. And stopped dead.

  Ethan Rae sat across from Tom, the big kauri-wood desk between them. Her heart seemed to squeeze and crumple. A kaleidoscope of frantic thoughts whirled through her brain.

  Her eyes drank him in. God, he looked good. Lucy had tried to forget his features, his commanding presence. Powerful. Alert and primed for success. Without doubts.

  She would not be moved by the warm approval that leapt into his eyes as they roved over her body. The suit wasn’t for him.

  She deliberately turned her head without acknowledging him. “I thought we had an appointment.”

  “Ethan surprised me. Want some coffee?”

  Lucy walked toward them on legs that felt like glass. A fierce compulsion to run far and fast tangled up the words in her throat. Before her nerve fled, she placed the briefcase on the corner of the desk and drew out a sheaf of papers.

  “There is enough there to clear all our debt, except for the mortgage.”

  Tom took the papers she offered. “You sold the apartment?” His voice was incredulous. He held up the valuation on the apartment.

  “The auction’s next week.” She didn’t divulge the estate agent’s warning that an urgent auction rarely reached the reserve. “I sold the car and the painting.”

  Had Ethan jerked in surprise then? She recalled his interest in the valuable gift from her father. So what? She forced her attention back to her brother.

  She had never seen Tom really surprised. His fleshy mouth opened and closed spasmodically.

  “God, Luce, this is—stunning.”

  “There’s more.” She indicated the large white envelope under the checks. Tom drew out the information on Gamblers Anonymous, flushing deeply. The appointment card was stapled to the front. Ten o’clock next Thursday morning. She would be accompanying him. “And I went to see the police. They’re looking into Joseph Dunn. They know him well.”

  Her hands were empty now. She raised her chin and walked to the window. Minutes ticked by and she knew, by the tightening of her pores, that Ethan’s eyes bored into her back. This was her biggest test. Get the business out of the way and escape.

  But why was he here? More accusations? Maybe an apology…but that was silly. Why, then, would he be meeting with Tom?

  She did not turn around until she heard Tom’s exhalation. Wound as tight as a spring, she knew to look at Ethan would unravel her. Lucy acknowledged she would have to go through the pain of losing him one day, but not here, not now and certainly not with him present.

  Her brother’s eyes shone as he looked up at her. “I don’t know what to say. This is amazing.” Tom shifted in his chair and Lucy didn’t miss the quick conspiratorial look that passed between the two men.

  She walked back over to his desk and sat. “We’d be debt-free, Tom, except for the mortgage. So you see, we don’t need the club.” Of their own accord, her eyes flicked disdainfully to the man at her left. “And we don’t need to sell the land.”

  Tom fidgeted with his pen and shuffled papers. “Ah. Well, that’s why Ethan is here. He’s come up with a very interesting business proposition.”

  A shard of ice slipped through the band of steel around her chest. A business proposition? Was he trying to buy their land? He knew their backs were against the wall. He also knew that if he threw money at Tom…

  “It’s a lease, Lucy,” Tom went on. “If Ethan were to lease the arable land from us, it would mean he pays us a lump sum up front and a yearly rent for whatever term we decide on.”

  “But—we don’t need to sell…”

  “Not sell. Lease. He’d be like a tenant.”

  The shard of ice hurtled around in a flyaway panic that even the tight band around her chest could not contain. It would be impossible to conduct a business relationship with Ethan Rae. Not when she felt the way she did about him. Not when he’d made it brutally clear what his opinion of her was.

  She glanced at him briefly, fearfully. “I don’t understand.”

  “Ethan wants to farm. He would set up the farm at his own expense.”

  Lucy felt stupid and covered it up with a scowl. “No. It’s McKinlay land.”

  Ethan cleared his throat, startling her. “Tom, would you mind?”

  Panic gripped her. Don’t leave me alone with him, she implored Tom with her eyes. But he was rising, nodding, closing the door behind him.

  Silence engulfed the room like a cloud. Lucy tried to hold all that she was feeling in her hands, clasped in a death grip in her lap.

  Ethan lounged three feet away, long legs stretched out in front of him. Finally, he spoke. “A lease means that the land is still yours and Tom’s, Lucy. You are the legal owners. I would just be borrowing it for whatever period you decide. Two years, ten, twenty…”

  She inhaled—as much as possible with her ribs in an iron corset. Since talking was beyond her, she might as well listen.

  “The initial lump sum could get rid of your debt.”

  She flicked a hand at the papers on the desk and felt his eyes on her.

  “You are incredible.” His voice had altered, from businesslike to soft. “Your family doesn’t deserve you.”

  A hard little knot of hurt made her want to cut. “What would you know of family? You won’t even forgive your father.”

  The guilt she felt at that remark irked her even more. He’d hurt her, dammit. She was sick of sheathing her claws. Turning in her seat, she faced him. “In fact, you’re not a very forgiving man, are you Ethan? I don’t think I’d like you as a business partner or tenant or whatever it is you’re talking about.”

  He had been looking at the desk in front of him, but now he faced her. He was hunched back in his seat with his hands in his pockets. After a lengthy pause, he spo
ke. “Unlike your father, you now have a mortgage to furnish. This way, you will get an income from the land.”

  Lucy sighed. Confusion—and curiosity—retracted her claws. “So what do you get out of it?”

  “The profits from what I produce. I pay for everything—stock, feed, fertilizer. And I keep the profits.”

  “What about the lodge?”

  “Not affected in any way. The lease would only cover the productive farming land. You and Tom would continue to run the lodge as you are now.”

  She was not looking at him but heard the smile in his voice. “Well, maybe not quite as you are now, I hope.”

  Lucy didn’t smile in return.

  “You could implement some of your very good ideas for the lodge. Once the financial pressure is off, Lucy, anything is possible.”

  “Who would look after the farm?” Her voice was faint. It was inconceivable to her that she would be sharing this part of the world with this man. She really would have to run.

  “Me.”

  Panic sharpened her tone. “From Sydney? Or Turtle…Tortoise Island or whatever it is?”

  He shook his head.

  She was tired of guessing. “You’re a businessman, not a farmer,” she informed him impatiently.

  “Told you I wanted to farm one day.”

  “One day!” She jumped to her feet. “What about your job? Your big important deal?” She only allowed him a heartbeat or two before continuing. “Thanks for the offer, but don’t worry about us. We’ll manage.”

  “I resigned,” he told her quietly, looking up at her.

  Her heart gave a jolt. Flooded her with something—hope? It slopped against the iron band around her chest.

  She pushed it down.

  His eyes caressed her face. His expression rocked her—all regret and apology. Another wave of confusion swept her. How different he looked and sounded from the icy stranger of a week ago. How could he hate her, hurt her like that and yet expect to work alongside her? Was it to humiliate her? Her eyes and throat ached with unshed tears. Please go and let me cry in peace, she begged silently, looking down at her shoes.

  “Lucy, I’m sorry.”

  She pursed her lips to quell that damn hope that seemed to swell inside again. His voice was dangerous, reminded her of what they’d shared—and lost.

  “Truly sorry.” He rose, took two steps until he stood in front of her. His aftershave, tangy and fresh, wafted to her and she breathed it in on a slow careful inhalation.

  “I should never have believed Tom and gone off half-cocked.”

  Her fingers curled into fists by her sides.

  “You weren’t in the plan, and you know me. I never deviate from the plan.” He paused again, but she still couldn’t trust herself to speak.

  Undaunted by her silence, he continued. “That last day, making love to you, I was this close to saying to hell with the job. This close to saying I’m not leaving you while everything is crashing around your ears. That scared the daylights out of me.”

  Lucy heard the snap of his fingers and then her heart beating. Strong, steady, resonant.

  “When Tom said what he did, it was a lifeline. I grabbed it and ran.”

  She could not bring herself to look at him yet, but she had to know. “Wh-what changed your mind?”

  He paused. “I was doing the same thing I’d done all my working life. Trying to prove I was better at it than Dad. And this deal—Turtle Island—it was the biggie. The one that would really kick him in the guts because of his history with it.”

  Lucy did look up at him then. His eyes glowed with regret. “All through this last week, I’ve thought only of you. Your loyalty and compassion, and how you’ve learned to cope. Your strength and your wonderful bond with this land. Made my goals seem petty and mean.” His voice softened. “And I was missing you bad and feeling like a heel because I’d run out on you, accusing you of something I knew you weren’t and could never be.”

  He flexed and curled his hands. “I was a coward, Lucy. Easier to walk away, close a deal, blame you for something you didn’t do, than face the fact that I’m in love with you.”

  Lucy’s heart stopped. She dug her nails into her palms to feel the scrape of something real. Forced her scurrying mind to slow, to comprehend. He loved her? Hope reared up again.

  “Make me a better man, Lucy.” His smooth, dark voice curled around her, at once soothing and agitating.

  “Give me some of that compassion and loyalty of yours. I don’t want my son not to talk to me for twenty years.”

  Her heart jerked again. How was it possible to still be standing while racked with so many different emotions?

  So she sat down with a plop. “You are a good man, Ethan,” she whispered. “You’re kind. You know how to get the best out of people. You understand how I feel about Summerhill, and you’ve helped me to stand and fight and actually believe I can do it.”

  “You can do it. You have done it.” He pointed at the papers on Tom’s desk. “But you don’t have to do it on your own.” He squatted down in front of her and took her hand. “I’m not doing anything for the next fifty years. Let me help you. Let’s make this our business, Lucy. Do it with me.”

  “I—I don’t know what to say.” She stared down at him, searched his face and found honesty and sincerity.

  “Say you accept my apology. Say you love me, too. Say you’ll marry me.”

  Her eyes blurred. When was the killer blow going to come? Things like this didn’t happen in real life.

  “I was coming to tell you,” she blurted, “the other day, before you left, that I love you. That we’d work it out somehow.”

  He pressed her hand to his lips. “I’m sorry I ruined it. Say it now. And say yes.”

  She shook her head in wonder. “You would live here with me, without owning a bit of it?”

  “You and Summerhill come as a package deal, evidently.” They smiled at each other. “Don’t care where we live. We could build up on the gorge, if you like.”

  “No electricity. No water. No access.”

  “It’s what I do, Lucy.”

  She nodded, eyes shining.

  “Anyway,” he continued, “I have property all over the world.”

  “You do?” Her face fell when he nodded. “But then I’d be like a trophy wife.”

  Ethan threaded his fingers through hers, kissed her hand again. “You own this incredible land. And if you say yes to the lease, soon you will own the best, most productive high-country station in New Zealand.”

  She looked down into his eyes. There it was: a warmth and reassurance she could bathe in. A respect and admiration hope could flourish in.

  He stood, taking her hands and pulling her up. “Say yes, Lucy.”

  “What am I saying yes to again?” She could almost hear the iron chains around her torso shattering. Hope, love streaked through the ruins, making her giddy.

  “Yes, you accept my apology?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, you love me, too?”

  “Oh, yes!”

  “Yes, you’ll marry me?”

  She hesitated. “If you invite your father to the wedding.”

  He nodded, smiling. “And yes to the lease. I need something to occupy my time while you’re off with your trophy wives.”

  “I suppose I could put my X to that.” She sighed.

  Ethan moved back a step. “Almost forgot.” He took something from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. “For you.”

  They were tickets of some kind.

  “He is a world-renowned expert on learning disabilities. The seminar is in Sydney next month, which gives you time to organize an assessment beforehand.”

  Really, she was touched, but old habits die hard. She gave a mock sigh. “Oh, Ethan. But there are lots more exciting things to do in Sydney than some boring old—”

  He held up his index finger. “We’ll make it a brief stopover on the way to our honeymoon.” He slid his arms around her waist. �
��It’s time to front up, Lucy. Stop pretending it doesn’t exist and doesn’t matter.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Okay then. If you insist.”

  She put her arms around him, too, laying her head on his chest. She felt oddly quiet, full—cherished. For the first time in a long time.

  Through the window, she saw the line of trees, a guard of honor leading to the river. And beyond, the lofty ridges and steep spurs of the far off Alps, wreathed in snow.

  She might not have the best business head in the world, but Lucy McKinlay knew a good deal when she saw one.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-7415-4

  TROPHY WIVES

  Copyright © 2005 by Janet Colley

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S.A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

  Visit Silhouette Books at www.eHarlequin.com