The Winner Takes It All

by Jennifer Dawson

  A boisterous round of laughter filtered in from outside. She walked over and peeked through the lace curtains. Down below, on a new brick patio, the light from the late afternoon sun streamed down on the group. Her brother was there, his long legs stretched out, lazy and relaxed. Nothing like the man he’d been back in his Chicago days. James, the quiet Donovan brother who didn’t eat refined sugar, sat there too, sipping what looked like a glass of iced tea.

  She swallowed hard as her gaze drifted to Shane and Gracie. They were sitting next to each other, their blond heads golden halos in the bright sun, knees touching.

  They were so . . . together. Comfortable and at ease with each other.

  Gracie dangled one of her ten-thousand-calorie cupcakes under his nose, teasing him with her dazzling smile as he laughed and pinched her before grabbing it out of her hand. He took a huge bite, shoving half the treat in his mouth.

  Did he devour Gracie the same way?

  Cecilia appraised the woman, mouthwatering in her red tank top and white capris. She dripped with sex appeal.

  Of course he did.

  A dark emotion that was not jealousy sat in the pit of her stomach.

  Shane draped an arm around Gracie Roberts’s chair and said something that caused her to throw her head back with laughter.

  They were perfect for each other.

  Cecilia’s fingers tightened on the lace curtains. She was happy for them.

  Her eye twitched into hyperdrive and she covered it with a fingertip until it stopped.

  Now she had no excuses and could focus all her energy on the campaign. She’d use this time to work. To plan. Craft her message—away from the advisers, her father, and Miles Fletcher—and find her voice. Because as much as she hated to admit it, her father was right: If she didn’t find a way to connect to the voters, it didn’t matter what she did. She wouldn’t win.

  So she’d use this time to figure out how to connect.

  The muscle under her eye spasmed again.

  Cecilia’s gaze drifted back to Shane.

  He belonged with a woman like Gracie. Lush and vibrant.

  And she could cook. Cecilia didn’t even know how to boil water.

  She remembered her summers with Gracie. How fun she’d been. After all the years Shane spent taking care of his family, he probably needed fun.

  As though he sensed her, Shane lifted his head and peered up, his gaze locking on hers. Her heart rate sped, pounding against her ribs and she stepped back, moving away from the window with a jerk. Had he seen her?

  She sank down on the bed, put her elbows on her knees, and rested her forehead in her open palm.

  No. He couldn’t have.

  She shrugged off her suit coat and flopped back on the bed to stare at the ceiling. She took a deep breath, slowly exhaled, and vowed to stop thinking about Shane Donovan.

  Ten minutes passed. She yawned and her lids grew heavy. It was so quiet here, still and peaceful. Her muscles uncoiled as though she’d unrolled an invisible carpet. A laziness she never allowed in her Chicago life crept over her and she drifted along in that perfect place between awake and sleep.

  Her phone cheeped, signaling an incoming text and startling her from her doze. With a groan she glanced at it, expecting her father, but it was an unassigned number. She swiped her finger over the screen.

  Stop hiding.

  All traces of sleepiness disappeared as she shot straight up on the bed.

  Was it—no, it couldn’t be.

  She blinked, her cheeks growing warm. It was a Chicago area code—who else? She tapped the keypad. Who is this?

  The phone beeped a second later. Now, Ce-ce. Don’t make me come get you.

  An inappropriate shiver raced down her spine. It was Shane. But why?

  Wasn’t he busy eating Gracie’s cupcakes? Alone in the privacy of her room, with nobody watching her, she didn’t have to hide her expression and a wide grin spread over her lips. Which was wrong. Schoolgirlish. And she didn’t care. There was nobody to see her. She typed, How’d you get this number?

  When the phone beeped thirty seconds later her stomach leapt.

  The same way you got my birthdate.

  She knew it. He’d investigated her.

  Another ding. One week after yours.

  The room seemed to grow ten degrees hotter as she dropped the phone on the bed and covered her face with her hands. What did that mean? Surely nothing. She tried to suppress the wild rush of excitement, but it was impossible. It was like being fifteen all over again and for the first time getting a call from the boy you liked.

  Okay, she needed to stay calm. It didn’t mean anything. More so, it couldn’t mean anything. She took a deep breath and grabbed the phone, determined to respond in the same manner she always did, as though he stood right in front of her. Don’t call me Ce-ce.

  When the phone beeped she was embarrassed to realize she’d been holding her breath.

  You have five minutes.

  The comment was completely high-handed and entirely like him. A rush of warm tingles raced through her body and she shuddered. Alone, she didn’t have to pretend it didn’t thrill her. Not that she planned on letting him get away with it. She typed out, I’m not afraid of you.

  A beep. Four.

  She grinned, buried her face in her hands, and laughed.

  Shane half listened to the conversation swirling around him while keeping one eye on the time and the other on the back door. What exactly was the icy Cecilia going to do now that he’d bossed her around? He didn’t think she’d take it lightly, but he was almost positive he wouldn’t get the excuse to go get her.

  Which was probably a good thing, because he wasn’t sure how he’d handle it now that she’d revealed she wasn’t as uninterested as she seemed. Her indifference had kept him in check on more than one occasion, but he doubted its effectiveness today.

  Not after he’d seen her in the window.

  He’d almost convinced himself the jealousy he’d read on her face had been an apparition. Until he’d spotted her in the upstairs window, her slim hand pressed against the glass.

  Staring up at her, he knew he wasn’t going to let this thing with her go, despite his instincts to the contrary. He’d always been as stubborn as a mule that way.

  He’d texted his administrative director and close family friend, Penelope Watkins, for the cell phone number sitting in the file he had on the Rileys. Two minutes later the number sat in his messages.

  He didn’t know if it was smart or stupid, but he was going to push Cecilia. Ruffle her. And then he was going to do any number of unspeakable things to her.

  Things that would probably shock her.

  He glanced at the time on his phone. She had one minute left.

  He narrowed his gaze on the back door.

  Just how far did that propriety go? Was it real? Was she a good girl all the way down to her toes? Or did she have a hidden streak of wicked?

  Could he break her? Make her scream? He suspected it would take a lot of torment—

  “Shane.” Gracie shook his arm, startling him from his thoughts.

  “What?” he asked, totally clueless.

  His brother-in-law-to-be scratched the scruff on his chin and gave him an assessing look. “Maddie texted to make sure we don’t need anything from the store. They’re getting ready to check out.”

  “No,” Shane said, and picked up his bottle of beer from the round teak table. He paused, remembering his conversation with Cecilia in the kitchen. “Wait, have her get some Cheetos and Mountain Dew.”

  Mitch cocked a brow. “Interesting choices.”

  “How can you eat that stuff?” In obvious disgust, James shook his head.

  Shane rolled his eyes. “Do I have to hear a lecture every time I eat junk food?”

  How had his brother turned out this way? Where had he gone wrong? Sometimes all the mistakes he’d made while trying to raise his three siblings kept him up at night. Shit, after his dad died he’d
just been trying to keep them off welfare. He hadn’t thought about their emotional well-being. He’d barely been an adult himself.

  Now he had James on one hand, his control so rigid he wouldn’t eat a fucking cupcake, and Evan on the other, who lived to take one stupid risk after another. He shook his head thinking of his youngest brother. Off surfing the Cyclops in Australia because he was running out of things that made him feel alive.

  Shane shook his head. At least Maddie was back on the right track.

  Although he couldn’t take credit for that one. His sister had done that all on her own without any help from him.

  “You’re thirty-five now,” James said in that reasonable tone he had before taking a sip of his decaffeinated, antioxidant-rich, black iced tea.

  Shane frowned. What was the deal with his age? And why did everyone keep saying that? “Yeah, well you’re thirty-three. Live a little before middle age hits and it all goes to hell.”

  Gracie pushed her plate of sinfully decadent cupcakes toward his professor brother with an overly sweet smile on her face. “If you’re going to live a little, have something actually good.”

  James shot her a droll look. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a food pusher?”

  Gracie clucked her tongue. “Duh, I’m a freakin’ baker.”

  Mitch chuckled, shaking his head at the lot of them before shifting his attention to his phone.

  Shane checked the time: five minutes had come and gone. So she was calling his bluff, was she? Fine by him, not that he had a clue what he planned to do once he found her. But he was sure something would come to him. It always did.

  He moved to stand, but the back door opened and out walked Cecilia. Disappointment had him settling back into his seat.

  Damn, just when things had been about to get interesting.

  Cecilia stepped out onto the patio looking like a magazine ad for Hamptons living. Dressed in what he supposed passed as her version of casual, she wore a pair of tan pants, a white button-down top that showed absolutely nothing, and a pair of ballet flats. Her shoulder-length hair had been twisted into a neat little bun that sat perched on top of her head. Inconveniently, her eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark, tortoiseshell sunglasses.

  She looked completely out of place with the rest of them. Hell, even Jimmy looked more relaxed than she did.

  Mitch nodded at his sister. “You made it.”

  “Yes,” she said, as though she spoke to a perfect stranger.

  “Maddie will be happy,” Mitch said, making it clear he didn’t give a shit if she was there or not.

  Cecilia’s lips pursed fractionally before she offered a courteous smile. “She made it quite clear when she invited me that no wasn’t an option.”

  Mitch grinned and shrugged. “She’s small, but mighty.”

  “Indeed,” Cecilia said, not even a hint of amusement lurking in her tone.

  Shane didn’t understand one thing about the Rileys. They were so goddamn polite all the time. Like they had no connection to each other at all.

  It baffled him. He’d lay down his life for his family. Had dedicated the last fourteen years to their survival. Worked his ass off to make sure they wanted for nothing. Even when they were total pains in the ass he couldn’t imagine not being close to them.

  If you didn’t have family, what did you have?

  He peered at Cecilia. What did she have?

  “How is everyone?” Cecilia asked, sliding into the teak lawn chair, offering a polite nod at his brother. “James, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

  “You too,” James said. “How was your drive?”

  “Fine, thank you.” She folded her hands in her lap and while her eyes were covered, she hadn’t looked in his direction once. Chicken.

  He, however, watched her unabashedly.

  She turned her attention toward James. “Congratulations on your recent publication. I saw the Times picked up a piece of it. Your university must be very proud.”

  Was she letting him know she kept an eye on the other members of his family? That it wasn’t exclusive to him?

  James’s expression turned mildly surprised. “With TV the way it is, forensic anthropology is a trendy topic.”

  Gracie gave a delicate little snort. “How can looking at a bunch of old bones be trendy?”

  James was well respected in his chosen field and did consulting work with the FBI and law enforcement offices all over the United States. He did a hell of a lot more than just look at bones, although it wasn’t clear if Gracie knew that or not.

  James’s jaw hardened but he just shrugged. “Talk to the New York Times.”

  Shane lost interest in their drama and concentrated on the mystery of Cecilia. He was sure she’d been jealous back in the kitchen, and he was positive something was going on with her. Could he get a reaction from her again?

  He put a hand on the back of Gracie’s chair.

  Cecilia stiffened, so slightly he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t his imagination.

  Testing further, he twined a lock of Gracie’s hair around his finger.

  Cecilia’s lips firmed into a thin line and she crossed her legs.

  Of course, she still pretended not to watch him. He wrapped his hand around Gracie’s nape, his fingers massaging the curve between her neck and shoulder. Ever helpful, she moaned, tilting her head to the side to allow him better access. “God, that feels good.”

  This time he was awarded a dark glare from his brother, and Cecilia’s foot started to bounce, giving him all the confirmation he needed.

  She did not like his hands on Gracie.

  Way more pleased than he had any right to be, he said, “Gracie, honey, maybe Cecilia wants a cupcake.”

  Cecilia scowled. If he had to guess, she was glaring behind those dark, movie-star shades. She also placed a palm over her flat stomach, revealing her hunger.

  Was she hungry for the cupcakes, or to throttle him? He was pretty sure he’d enjoy either.

  Gracie pushed the plate toward Cecilia with a grin. “Well, I don’t know how many calories they have, but I can tell you it’s more than five.”

  Cecilia’s chin lifted and she took one from the plate. “Thank you, I’m sure one indulgence won’t hurt me.”

  Mitch assessed his sister. “I think you can afford more than one. You’re too skinny.”

  “I hardly think so,” she said, putting the chocolate confection on a napkin.

  “You’ve lost weight since I’ve seen you.” Mitch’s tone indicated this wasn’t a compliment.

  She picked at the edge of the paper liner but made no room to eat the cupcake. “Not much.”

  “At least five or ten pounds,” Mitch said, the words rubbing Shane the wrong way.

  If her brother wanted her to eat, making a big deal about how crappy she looked wasn’t the way to go about it. She might be his sister, but it was pretty much Women 101.

  “Things have been hectic,” Cecilia said, frowning at her cupcake.

  Mitch narrowed his gaze. “You’re pale, and I bet you look just as tired under those sunglasses.”

  Cecilia folded her hands in her lap, abandoning the cupcake, an overly polite smile on her face. “A pleasure as always, Mitchell.”

  “Just calling it as I see it,” Mitch said.

  Shane felt his blood pressure rise, although he didn’t know why. It wasn’t any of his business if the Rileys wanted to treat each other like crap. He was just about to open his mouth and insert himself where he didn’t belong, but Gracie beat him to it.

  “Geez, what’s wrong with you?” She slugged Mitch in the arm then shook her head at Cecilia. “Don’t listen to him, Ce-ce, you look great.”

  She didn’t actually. She looked pretty much as her brother described. Too thin, pale, and tired as hell. Which bothered him on some visceral level. She was a beautiful woman, and had the potential to be a complete showstopper, but there was something missing in her. A vitality.

  He’d met plenty of
women like Cecilia. Powerful, sophisticated women who played everything close to the vest for fear someone would exploit their weaknesses. Women who carefully planned every move they made and let nothing catch them off guard. He saw that in Cecilia. How she worked to cultivate her image, from the cool expression to her well-modulated speaking voice.

  But he couldn’t get over the feeling it was an act. An act that didn’t quite work on him, although he wanted to believe the story she was selling. He’d been telling himself she was nothing but an ice queen, but he kept baiting her, prodding and poking, waiting for her to respond. And today, he’d finally gotten the reaction he’d been waiting for, making him all the more determined to find out what was under Cecilia’s smooth, oh-so polished exterior.

  Because any woman who worked this hard at her facade was hiding something.

  Too bad for her, he’d always been like a dog with a bone. Never give up. Never say die.

  “How’s dear old dad?” Mitch asked, his voice so nonchalant Shane was sure it was feigned.

  Cecilia leaned back in her chair and peered into the sun. It streamed over her pale skin and turned her hair to coppery gold. “Oh, you know, same as always.”

  “He keeps calling for Mom, but she refuses to talk to him.”

  She glanced around the table, shifting restlessly in her chair. “This probably isn’t the time to discuss it.”

  Mitch waved a hand over the table. “They’re family. They know everything.”

  Shoulders squaring, she went rigid, as though caught in a freeze-frame. “They might be your family, but they’re strangers to me.”

  “At least tell me what happened.” Mitch continued to push the issue despite Cecilia’s protests.

  “I don’t know.” Cecilia crossed her legs and folded her hands neatly on the table.

  Shane had spent a lot of time in negotiations, and over the years he’d learned everyone had tells. Even Cecilia. She was controlling a desire to fidget. That much was clear by the white around her knuckles.