Lara’s hand on his arm restrained him. Stars danced in her eyes. “That was pretty wonderful. You really do like Ginnie.”
“Don’t you get her hopes up,” Harry warned. “I like her, but I’m not her knight in shining armor.”
“Uh-huh.” Lara’s expression changed. “There’s a bit of pressure to get this house finished quickly. I’d wondered about all the urgent pressure for this job. Money no object, questions not encouraged. Of course you’re funding it.”
Harry looked at her. “My trailer-boy act didn’t convince you, huh?”
“It was pretty good. For a multi-millionaire.”
“Are you going to inform Ginnie about the funding? And about my name?”
“Are you?” she shot back.
“First things first,” he snapped, still feeling angry at Ginnie’s mom. He pulled his arm free and kept walking. “Excuse me.”
Ginnie needed him.
The knocking on the bathroom door made her stiffen with alarm, until she heard Harry’s soft voice. “I’m here.”
“Just a sec. I’m, ah, fixing my mascara.” She blinked at the mirror. Pale brownish-black streaks rimmed the bottoms of her eyes and upper cheeks. The whites of her eyes were pink, and her flesh looked blotchy.
Pathetic.
Grimly, she wet a washcloth and made what repairs she could.
She smoothed her hair. Better.
She braced herself for Harry’s scorn and opened the bathroom door. “Hey.”
He knocked the breath out of her, he moved in and hugged her so fast and tight. She tried to speak, but it came out only as a squeak.
“Hush.” Harry relaxed his hold, but the brief tight squeeze had done worlds to bolster her spirit.
Which levered her up from misery to aching unhappiness. Not to mention embarrassment. She snuggled into his broad chest, inhaling Harry-scent, glad she didn’t have to meet his gaze.
He murmured against her hair. “Are you okay?”
“She’s still here.”
“So that’s a no.”
Ginnie snorted laughter, but it was sad laughter. She forced herself to look into his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Instead of the scorn she’d feared, she saw friendly compassion. “It’s not your fault. You can’t choose your parents.”
“No, I’m sorry for leaving you with her.”
“Oh, that. Nope, unforgivable.” He tilted her mouth up to his and kissed her. “Completely inexcusable.” A gentle flicker of tongue on her earlobe. “There will be no pardon. I’m just going to take it out of your hide. If that’s acceptable to you.” He lifted her against him, letting her feel exactly how he’d take his recompense. Then he kissed her again, deep and wet and hard, until she trembled with desire.
“Ginnie, I want you. You know what I think of being in a relationship, but you bring out the romantic in me. I want to get naked right now and have you up on the bathroom counter. I can’t help wanting you, and wanting to be with you. You’re like no one I’ve ever known. You’re smart, talented, stubborn, sensitive and totally passionate.” He kissed her again.
Oh, how she loved him. The words hovered in her heart, then in her throat, then on the tip of her tongue as he nibbled on her lip gently. He moved against her, and she moaned. She wanted nothing more than to share the kind of lovemaking with him that would pound every other thought out of her head. But she pulled away.
“Yes?” The bass of his voice vibrated from his chest into hers, a pleasurable rumble.
“She’s still out there. My mother.” Ginnie regretfully extricated herself. “It’s the last thing I want to do, but I should keep her company this afternoon, until her flight back. Oh, she’s going to rip me a new one for this. She’ll say I fell apart, that I’m weak, that I’m a helpless, hopeless mess and not at all like her. I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t knock me out and pack me into her carry-on to get me back to Rick.” Ginnie tried to make her voice light and amused, but she didn’t think she succeeded.
It wasn’t fear of her mother that she felt, but a bone-deep tiredness. Her nerves always got a workout around Constance, but never quite this badly. “She’s going to savage me.”
“I don’t think she will.”
“You sound awfully confident about that.” Ginnie scrutinized him. “Do you know something I don’t?”
“I just don’t think she will. But she is right about one thing.” At Ginnie’s look, he said, “It’s true that you’re not like her. You aren’t. You’re better in every way.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Would you leave your daughter alone when she’s upset? Last I saw your mother, she was. Just sitting in your car, using a cell phone.”
“Oh no. I need to get going. She’ll be furious at having to wait.”
Harry stopped her as she went by. “Ginnie. Don’t let her push you around or make you feel bad. You’re not like her. You’re not. Really. Okay?” Then, as if he couldn’t resist himself, he kissed the tip of her nose.
“Okay.” Ginnie smiled, feeling better. It was as if his words actually held magic to heal years’ worth of conflict with her mother.
It was an amazing testament to his power over her.
Ginnie lowered her eyes so he wouldn’t see how shaken it made her feel. He simply had no idea of his effect on her.
He would be terrified to know.
Still, she had to tell him. Soon.
“The mother’s gone?”
“The mother is.” Ginnie smiled at Lara, who looked concerned for her. It touched Ginnie. She’d gotten lucky to have a friend like Lara. It was a gift of something precious. She felt suddenly grateful for her luck, to have Lara to talk to rather than the other rental broker, the one who’d started the house mess.
Ginnie pointed her key fob at her little car and made it beep to lock up. They both walked toward her bungalow. “She moved her flight time up. But before that…it was so weird. We actually had a civil brunch over at Mascique. Coffee and eggs and conversation. She only mentioned Rick once, and she seemed in a strange mood. I’d say she seemed more motherly, if that weren’t so improbable.” Ginnie pondered, then shrugged. “It was a nice change.”
“Maybe she finally figured out she has a daughter and not a clone of herself. Maybe she realizes how much of an ass she’s been. Sorry. But, you know, she’s not exactly nice.”
“Not nice at all. She’s vindictive, she’s materialistic and she holds grudges like nobody’s business.” Ginnie strolled up the walk with Lara to view the progress of her house repairs. It reminded her of something else.
“She did say something interesting. She was making all kinds of charge-to-war noises about a lawsuit when she first got here. But after a phone call to her attorney, she’s backed off the entire idea. Says it’s inadvisable to sue. She said someone is funding this project to the tune of fifty thousand dollars. The property management company has really good disaster insurance, I guess?” Ginnie looked at Lara inquiringly.
“Not exactly.” Lara stared straight ahead. “The repairs are coming along fast. I’m sure you’ve noticed.” She seemed to be looking around for something.
Or someone.
“It’s actually completely unprecedented, how quickly it’s going,” Lara said, leading Ginnie into the house. They viewed the kitchen. The intact roof blocked off open sky. The women listened to roofers above, their feet crunching against newly laid composite sheets as the men applied shingles to the sheathing. “With multiple bureaucracies and paperwork involved, this just never happens. Ginnie, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Um, okay.” Lara’s earnest expression seemed almost as odd as her mother’s niceness. “What is it? Is there a problem with the security deposit?”
“Harry should have told you. I asked him to.”
Ginnie stared. “What does Harry have to do with it? You’re worrying me, Lara.”
“It’s been twenty-four hours. I don’t like how he’s keeping it from you. It’s not
fair. That scandal last year doesn’t give him the right to deceive people about who he really is.”
“You know about that?” Ginnie gaped at Lara. “The Christmas party disaster with the kid and the reporters?”
“Oh yeah. It was in all the headlines, and even on national TV for a couple of days.”
“Headlines? National TV?” Were they talking about the same Harry? “But it was just a misunderstanding. No wonder I don’t watch TV anymore. It’s shameful the way they scrape the bottom of the barrel for ratings, slandering a simple businessman that way. If you’re worried that he’s actually a pedophile, Lara, I can assure you he’s not.” Disappointment in her new friend filled her. She’d thought Lara was a better judge of character.
“No, no, no,” Lara said. “Oh, Ginnie.” She waved her hands helplessly. “I don’t believe he’s that. But don’t you wonder how a simple businessman got so much news coverage?”
Ginnie tapped her hip with one finger, impatient. “What are you getting at?”
“He’s not a simple businessman. Ginnie, he’s H. Barrett Sharpe.”
The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
Lara huffed impatiently. “H. Barrett Sharpe. Barrett ‘Hairy Bear’ Sharpe, the real estate tycoon?”
Ginnie took a quick breath of utter astonishment. “The one who pulled the funding from Helping Hands! Oh. I think I have seen him before. He had lots of hair. The hairy millionaire?”
“Your Harry. He might be a billionaire by now, actually.”
“Billionaire?”
Lara laughed, but it sounded a little grim. “The Santa scandal was everywhere on the news last year. Lots of people around here are convinced it was his fiancée who set him up. She was a vicious piece of work. Called the newspapers and television before allowing the police in to check out his home computer. Totally staged.”
“Of course it was staged. Harry told me about it.” Ginnie shook her head. Should she even call him Harry anymore? Harry the billionaire. He never said anything about that. “So, why’d the fiancée do it?”
Lara stretched her lips in a mirthless grin. “Why else? Money. Or revenge. Both, probably. The gossip mill says she flipped out when Mister Sharpe—I mean Harry—insisted on a pre-nup. And after she went nuts, telling people that horrible lie, that’s when Harry sort of disappeared. I didn’t recognize him at all without his brown business suit and trademark long hair and beard.” Lara paused, thoughtful. “Sometimes it was a goatee.”
“Harry had a goatee?” Ginnie felt slow. Her Harry had a goatee.
“Why d’you think his nickname was Hairy?” Lara grinned until she saw Ginnie’s face. “I know. It’s kind of a shock to find out you’re dating a famous billionaire tycoon. Or ex-tycoon, I guess.”
Ginnie felt faint. “Tycoon? Ex-tycoon?”
Lara started laughing. “Let’s go get drinks. You need one, and I need to fill you in.”
That night, Ginnie lay on her side, curled up next to Harry. Her soft hair caressed his shoulder and her warm breath tickled his bare skin.
“I hope you didn’t take it personally. How my mom treated you, I mean. She’s like that to anyone she considers poor.”
Harry stroked her hair, playing with the silky curls so they grazed his fingers before falling back into waves, enjoying the way she shivered at the sensation. “No. I didn’t take it personally.”
“I don’t know what happened, but my mom was really nice after we left the construction site. She even asked about my upcoming show at the school auditorium. She’s never asked about my career as a puppeteer before. Not politely, anyway.”
The happiness in her voice let him know he’d done the right thing where her mother was concerned. The older woman needed more of a reality check than he’d given her, but at least she’d modified her behavior toward Ginnie. He sincerely hoped it stuck. Or else he’d be forced to fly down to her McMansion in the ’burbs and make his point more strongly. He doubted either Ginnie’s mother or the sugar daddy she’d married would appreciate that.
“The house looked good,” she added and kept talking about the repairs and improvements. He felt a delightful languor suffuse him, listening to her sweet voice. A small tapping on his shoulder was all the warning he got. “Then Lara and I had an interesting conversation. She told me about a guy named H. Barrett Sharpe.”
Harry’s fingers stilled in her hair.
“You’re acquainted with him, I see.” Ginnie propped herself up on one elbow, her expression reproachful. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her soft words speared him. Harry tried to remember his reasons for the deception. They’d been good reasons, valid reasons. Why couldn’t he remember what they were with her looking at him like that? “I didn’t think… I didn’t realize…” He felt awkward with guilt. It was a singularly uncomfortable sensation.
“You didn’t think we’d be together long enough for it to be an issue.” It wasn’t a question. Her eyes seemed to hold him prisoner.
“It’s not just that.”
“Just? Just that?” Her reproachful expression deepened into hurt.
“In the beginning, I thought that way,” he explained. “Things are different now. You know I’m a private man, and a methodical one. It’s a habit to be cautious. A valuable habit in my line of work, and in my life.” His state of relaxation slowly disappeared. He missed it, but he knew it was his own fault. “I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner. Is it a big problem? My being H. Barrett Sharpe?”
“Maybe. I understand you’re the one who pulled the Helping Hands grant.” Her voice was cool. “Do you know how much unhappiness you caused by doing that?”
“I examined where Jaye Rae’s donations went. She was temporarily in charge of that part of my business, and when that ended, I reviewed the grants. Helping Hands didn’t help themselves when they took an official position against my supposed pedophilia.” Harry had actually forgotten about Helping Hands. “I’ll re-instate the grant, if you wish. I want to make you happy.”
Ginnie blinked. “Seriously? You’d do it, just like that?”
“For you? Of course.”
“That would be…amazingly generous.” She smiled, wondering and gentle again. “Harry. Barrett.” She was trying on his name. “I understand you might not want to advertise you have piles and piles of money. It might draw the wrong sort.” Ginnie shifted, brushing her body against his. Tingles ran up and down his body. He still wanted her badly, though they’d just finished making love. “I guess the biggest problem right now is that I don’t know what to call you.” She gazed down at him, a small smile playing about her lips.
He exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It would be okay. She’d forgiven him. She’d forgiven him pretty quickly. “Harry’s good. It’s my nickname. Everyone I like calls me that.” Why had she forgiven him so quickly?
“It just seems weird for a billionaire tycoon to be named Harry,” she teased, snuggling once more against him. She ran her hand down his chest, over his taut belly. “You definitely have hair. Hmmm, yes, quite a bit.”
He moaned in pleasure, but she reversed her hand, burrowing it like a small animal in his chest hair. “Hairy.”
“Yes?”
“I want to tell you something. Let me just say it, and then you don’t say anything back, okay? Just listen and don’t say anything back. Then I’ll turn off the lights and we’ll crawl under the sheets and fall asleep together. Just please don’t say anything back. Okay?”
Any hope of relaxing drained completely away. Wariness filled him, stiffened his spine, made his voice cool. “I understand.”
“Harry. I love you. I can’t help it at all. It’s completely out of my control. I’ve loved you for a while now, and I wanted to say the words. I love you. There, it’s said.” She turned over and reached to flip off the light. “Goodnight, Harry.”
“Goodnight.” Harry lay on his back in the dark.
She loved him.
Panic dried up all the saliva in his mouth and set his heart to pounding too quickly, frighteningly quickly. His stomach felt like a clenched knot. He’d let things go too far, too fast and now he had to fix matters. He’d told her he didn’t want a relationship. Why hadn’t she listened? What had she been thinking?
She hadn’t been thinking, he realized. She’d been feeling. She’d simply done what she always did: led with her heart, leaping first and only then looking around for a net.
She clearly believed she loved him.
Or did she really believe it?
His thoughts raced dangerously. She’d said the words…but only after she’d found out he was a billionaire.
Then she’d gone and turned out the lights. To hide her deception?
No.
Well, possibly. It had to be considered.
With an effort, Harry reclaimed control over his wildly careening thoughts.
It was all his own fault. He’d let her in. He’d opened himself up and asked for it. Now he had to deal with it.
Too bad for her she’d shown her manipulative hands on the strings with her confession of love. That sort of relationship would end badly sooner or later.
It had to end, now. Still, he didn’t look forward to cutting those strings. He could tell that her feelings weren’t completely feigned.
He knew what he had to do was going to devastate her.
He also knew he was going to do it anyway.
Chapter Eleven
Ginnie shook granola into her cereal bowl the next morning while Harry showered. It wasn’t until she sat down to eat it that she realized she wasn’t hungry. The butterflies in her belly saw to that.
She pushed the bowl away.
Her fingers were trembling.
She was bursting with nervous exhilaration and anticipation. And maybe a little fear.
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