by Karen Booth
“Thank God there’s food. This conversation is making me anxious.” Miranda dabbed at her mouth with a napkin.
Indeed, the popovers were warm and comforting, and a welcome respite from the topic at hand. “I agree.”
“Look, I’m not trying to get you to tell me everything about your issues with Johnathon. It’s obvious that it’s not something you want to talk about, and the truth is that he’s not here to answer for any of it. I think it’s most fair to you, and to him, if we just let it go. But I have one thing I want. I want you to stop.”
“I want to, but it’s not that simple.” Again, the man at the bar stole another glance at them. He was tempted to ask Miranda if she knew him, but he didn’t want to draw attention to what might potentially be a problem. If things got dicey, he’d keep her safe.
“From where I’m sitting, it’s incredibly simple. You’re the only living connection I have to Johnathon. You’re the baby’s only biological relative on her father’s side. You should be a part of her life. But that can’t happen if you’re threatening her birthright with this scheme.”
“Her?”
“Yes.” A smile bloomed across her stunning face. “A little girl.”
Every passing minute with Miranda brought Andrew’s misdeeds into sharper focus. In his mind’s eye, he could see his future niece. Hurting her was unthinkable. And here was her mother, with every reason to be angry with him, and she was inviting him into their life. The idea stole his breath away. “That’s why I’m here in San Diego. To stop the plan.” I have to.
Miranda’s eyes narrowed on him. “Then just do it.”
Their entrées had arrived, but Andrew didn’t have much appetite anymore. “I had a partner. A man named Victor. You have to understand that Johnathon had a lot of enemies, and I’d put Victor near the top of the list. He jumped at the chance to take part. But after Johnathon died, I told Victor we had to stop. Unfortunately, he didn’t agree. So now he’s gone rogue and I have to track him down if I have any chance of convincing him to end it.”
Her face clouded with confusion. “If he’s here in San Diego, you should just let me talk to him. I can be pretty persuasive.”
Andrew had zero doubt about that. Andrew nearly laughed at her willingness to trust others. It struck him as brave, but horribly naive. He wasn’t going to let her within fifty feet of Victor, especially while she was pregnant. “I’m the only one who can stop him.” Andrew again saw the man at the bar look in their direction. There was no way he was merely another customer. Something was going on.
“That sounds like something Johnathon would say. You should let me help you. This is in my interest, too.”
“Please. Miranda. This is between me and Victor.” And the ghost of your dead husband. “It might require a few concessions, but I’ll get it done. I promise.”
Miranda shook her head while enjoying a bite of her steak. “I will never understand the games men play in business, especially when you get to be as rich as you are. You’ve already won. Can’t you just be satisfied?”
She was so right. If only he’d had a Miranda in his life to steer him straight. Things might have turned out differently. But love hadn’t been kind to Andrew. Not like it had been to Johnathon. “We’re ridiculous, aren’t we? We hoard our toys and don’t want to share with anyone.”
She pointed at him with her fork. “Exactly. That’s how Johnathon was. Always on the lookout for the next kill. He took entirely too much pleasure in beating others.”
Andrew knew that very well. He’d been on the receiving end too many times to count. “My brother was very good at it. It’s hard not to keep going when you excel at something.”
Miranda shrugged. “I guess. It still doesn’t mean I understand the need to be ruthless.”
“Of course you don’t. You’re a kind person. You clearly have a generous heart. I appreciate that you want me to be a part of your life and the baby’s. It means more to me than you know.”
“Family is incredibly important to me, and I don’t have much. I have to hold on to everyone I can.”
She was so beautiful and pure of heart. He wasn’t sure he deserved to sit at the same table with her, let alone be part of her life. “I understand. I’m in a similar situation.”
“Right. Which means you and I need to stick together. And that starts right now. You should not be staying at a hotel. It isn’t right. Family stays with family. You should come stay with me.”
His pulse picked up, pounding in his ears. He had no business getting physically closer to Miranda. She’d only distract him from the task at hand. “No. Thank you.”
“You’re turning me down?”
I’m keeping you safe. “I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”
“It’s no trouble at all. I’m in that big empty house by myself all the time. It gets really lonely. And boring. You’d be doing me a favor. It would be so nice just to have someone else there.”
Andrew scrambled for another argument to make. He was already fighting an attraction that was all wrong. Spending more time with Miranda would only make it worse.
Their server appeared at the table. “Are we still working on the meal?”
“Wow. I pretty well polished that off, didn’t I?” Miranda asked, then pointed to Andrew’s plate, which was still half-full. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine,” Andrew said. “Just too caught up in our conversation.”
“I have a piece of Mississippi mud pie coming out from the kitchen for you in a moment,” the server said. “The gentleman at the bar sent it over.” She turned and gestured in that direction, but then her expression fell. “Oh. I guess he left.”
“Did you see someone you know?” Andrew asked Miranda, desperately hoping the answer was yes.
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. But dessert sure sounds good.”
The hair on the back of Andrew’s neck stood up. He’d thought that man was suspicious. Was this Victor’s way of letting Andrew know that he was close by? He wasn’t about to let on about his suspicions. “It does.”
The server left and Andrew took the chance to finish his bourbon. He had to remind himself that he could handle this. He could take care of Victor. So why was he feeling so especially nervous about it? Probably because of the pregnant woman sitting across the table from him.
“Well? What do you think about my offer? Coming to stay at the house?” Miranda asked.
Andrew knew this wasn’t a good idea. He was already saddled with unbearable guilt over the plan he’d set in motion. Having to fight his attraction to his dead brother’s wife was only going to make setting things right a more complicated proposition. But he couldn’t worry about his own internal struggles. He was stronger than that. Bottom line, he had to keep Miranda safe. Johnathon would expect it of him. “It sounds great. I’d love to accept the invitation.”
Three
“Moving in? With you? Into your house?” Tara asked Miranda, her voice booming over the phone line.
Miranda winced at the line of questions. Everything about them was bad. The tone. The substance. The volume. “He’s not moving in. He’s coming to stay with me for a few nights. People do that, you know. Families.” Miranda peered out the window, waiting on Andrew’s arrival.
“He’s not your family.”
“What are you talking about? He’s Johnathon’s brother. He will be biologically related to my child. That’s family.” She tugged the curtain back into place and wandered into the living room, plopping down in a chair.
“Family sticks around. Family goes to the funeral when someone passes away.”
“He and Johnathon were estranged. That happens. I could spend my entire life resenting Andrew for his mistake, or I can move on with my life. I’m inclined to do the latter. This hasn’t been easy for me.” It was the truth. Losing her husband while expect
ing their child had been one of the most difficult things Miranda had ever endured. It was a never-ending tug-of-war between the grief over what was lost and the hope over what was to be. She had to lean toward the more optimistic side of her circumstances. It was the only way to stay sane.
“Well, Grant and I are very concerned.” It came as no surprise that Tara’s fiancé, Grant, didn’t like this idea. He’d been Johnathon’s oldest friend. “Not only are you letting the man who was secretly sabotaging Sterling Enterprises into your home, he accepted the invitation. What is he after?”
Miranda sighed. She trusted Andrew. If that made her a fool, so be it. At least she could say that she’d tried to build a bridge to him. “I told you. He’s in town to track down this Victor person.”
“Grant doesn’t know who Victor is. That seems highly suspicious. Grant knew about all of Johnathon’s business dealings, and he knows everyone who hated him. I think Andrew is lying.”
Miranda was not the sort of woman who convinced herself of things that weren’t true, but she did feel as though she saw qualities in Andrew that no one else did. Perhaps it was her charge to show others the light. “Andrew didn’t try to hide his plan from me. He came right out and owned up to it. He apologized. Why would he do that if he had ulterior motives?”
“That’s the thing about hidden agendas. They’re hidden.”
Miranda choked back a grumble of frustration. “I really don’t think he was being dishonest, okay? Can we leave it at that?”
“What does your brother think?”
Clay had shown some reservation, but that was normal for him. He was immensely protective of Miranda, just as he was of his daughter, Delia, and now his fiancée, Astrid, the second of the Sterling wives. In the end, Miranda had convinced Clay that this was the right thing and that he had nothing to worry about. “He’s fine with it.”
“Really?” The incredulity in Tara’s voice was unmistakable.
“Yes.” Miranda heard the sound of a car door closing outside. “I have to go, Tara.”
“I hope you know that I’m only being a pain because I care about you and the baby. You’re like a sister to me.”
Miranda felt utterly stuck between the people she cared the most about—Tara, Clay and Grant on one side, and Andrew on the other. “I know your heart’s in the right place. You have to trust that mine is, too.”
“Please tell me you’ll call me if there’s a problem.”
“I will.” She ended the call and got out of the chair, taking her time ambling to the front door. She didn’t want to appear too eager. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel about his arrival. She was excited by the prospect of having some company and no longer being alone in this house. But she was unsure what their dynamic would be like. Between the things Johnathon had said and Miranda’s own experiences, Andrew was still an unknown quantity.
She turned the latch and opened her front door just as Andrew was climbing out of a big black SUV. She couldn’t help but notice the way her heart flipped at the sight of him in dark jeans, a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black sunglasses. He might be an enigma, but he was wrapped up in a far-too-appealing package. Andrew was more than handsome. He was ridiculously hot. Smoking. Was she just supposed to ignore that while they were living under the same roof?
“I didn’t expect a welcoming committee.” He waved to Miranda as he strode up to her front steps, toting a brown leather men’s overnight bag.
“I wouldn’t want to be a bad host.” She was proud of herself for speaking, fighting her true inclination to bite down on her lower lip.
Andrew cupped her shoulder and leaned down to kiss her cheek, leaving behind a warmth that radiated through her body. “How are you?”
Dizzy. “Good. You?”
“Glad to be out of the hotel. I’ll tell you that much.”
“Good. Come on in.” With a deep breath, Miranda composed herself and made her way inside. Andrew followed, closing the door behind him. “I’ll show you up to your room so you can drop your bag and get settled,” she said.
“Please. Lead the way.”
She traipsed through the wide central hall, past the living room and kitchen to the left and her home office on the right. When they reached the stairs and started the climb to the second floor, she was overcome by a heightened awareness of his presence behind her. With each step, they were venturing closer to privacy and solitude, where absolutely anything might happen. The realization set off a conflict between her body and brain. She was undeniably attracted to Andrew. Her immediate physical reaction could not be questioned. But he was her dead husband’s brother. It wasn’t right for her to have desirous feelings toward him. It was wrong, bad, and terribly inappropriate. How would she ever reconcile the battle between her wants and what was sensible?
Stop it. You’re thinking like Tara. Miranda was not going to let worry rule her life. With a baby on the way, there was already plenty to feel unsure of. Andrew was a wonderful man, but totally off-limits. The time had come for her to strengthen their relationship—to get close, but not too close.
Down the hall, she arrived at one of her three guest rooms. Johnathon had always liked having people around, and there had been many times when the house was fully occupied by various friends from all over the world. Those memories were part of what made the present state of her home so unsettling. It was entirely too empty and quiet.
“Here you are,” Miranda said, stepping inside and flipping on the light.
“It’s perfect.” Andrew set his bag next to the dresser. “Did you design this room? It’s spectacular.”
Heat rose in her cheeks. She was proud of the job she’d done on this room. It was the most masculine of the guest spaces, with charcoal-gray bedding and a faux parchment treatment on the wall behind the bed. Over each of the dark wood bedside tables was a dramatic pendant light fixture hanging from the ten-foot ceiling. This room was magnificent at night. “I did the whole house.”
Andrew set down his sunglasses on one of the tables, then turned and offered a faint smile. “I’m duly impressed.”
If anyone was blown away, it was Miranda. Everything about Andrew was a deluge to the senses—his warm and citrusy smell, his affable grin and the genuine mystery of his eyes. It made her appreciate his presence that much more, but she reminded herself that this was temporary. It was best not to fixate on his many selling points. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’m thankful for the invitation.”
“How long do you think you’ll stay?”
“Not too long. A few days? A week? I’ll head back to Seattle as soon as I wrap things up with Victor.”
“You won’t be able to stay for Thanksgiving? It’s less than two weeks away.” She heard the disappointment in her own voice and knew she had to dial it back. It wasn’t her place to put expectations on him. “I mean, it would be nice if you could be here for it. I’m hosting. My brother will be here with Astrid and his daughter. Grant and Tara.”
“I doubt I’ll need to be here that long.”
Perhaps holidays weren’t important to Andrew the way they were to Miranda. She clung to them because they signaled the normalcy she hadn’t always had in her life. “Sounds like you’re ready to get to work then. Will you need an office space? I could set you up in Johnathon’s study.”
He cleared his throat and his posture stiffened. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I wouldn’t want to intrude on your memories of him. I’m sure that room means a lot to you.”
“Honestly, I haven’t stepped foot in there since he died. I’m sure that sounds crazy, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I think it would be nice if someone actually used it. Then it wouldn’t have to be a place for thinking about loss. It could just be a functioning room.”
Andrew stuffed his hands into his pants pockets. “I don’t know.”
>
Miranda didn’t intend to push Andrew to do something he didn’t want to do, but she also sensed that he hadn’t come to terms with Johnathon’s death. Perhaps this would help him along. “Come on. I’ll let you check it out.”
“Okay. If nothing else, I’d like to see it.”
Together they walked to the very end of the hall and to Johnathon’s study. Miranda wasn’t quite sure why she hadn’t ventured inside after Johnathon was gone, aside from her fear of sinking into the depths of a sadness from which she might never return. She’d had her days of running her hands through Johnathon’s clothes in the closet or smelling his cologne. Doing those things hadn’t made her feel any better, and certainly hadn’t brought him back. So why make it worse by going into the room where he’d spent so much time?
The office was exactly as Johnathon had left it—neat as a pin. Not so much as a stray piece of paper had been left out. There was the mahogany desk Miranda had spent months hunting for, an impossibly heavy antique, and a collection of vintage maps of San Diego and Southern California, to remind him of his love of the area. And, of course, there was an entire wall devoted to the many awards and pieces of publicity Johnathon had earned in his relatively short time on earth—businessman of the year, philanthropic accolades, magazine covers.
“It’s a stunning room,” Andrew said, noticeably not venturing past the threshold. “My brother was a very lucky guy.”
“He definitely had a way of bending the universe to his will, didn’t he?” Miranda stepped inside, hoping that would make Andrew come along, but he remained in the doorway. She could see the trepidation on his face, the way he was unsure of himself, which was such a stark contrast to his usual confident stance. Was it because this room was as close to a confrontation with his brother as he might ever get?
