by Ava Miles
“I told you I was good,” he told Trev. “You can head back to your life.”
“I think Caroline will thank you for saving her the worry,” Trev said, ignoring him completely. “I personally can’t wait to say goodbye to my acid reflux. I told Flynn he should have his people come up with something better than what’s on the market.”
Their brother was famous for coming up with new ideas, some of them off-the-wall. “Flynn said he’s thinking of turning the pharmaceuticals over to Connor again because he’s bored with drugs.” He leveled his brother a look. “You’re evading. I know you’re here because you’re worried Cynthia’s going to cause more trouble.”
Trev was truly the best brother in the world. Not that J.T. was going to tell him that. They had a policy on mushy stuff like that.
“I’m also here to celebrate your divorce, moron,” Trev said, not debating him. “The fam wants to throw a big shindig in Napa.”
He cringed. “I don’t want this to be a deal. I only want to move on with my life.”
“Fine! I’ll tell Mom and have her put out the word. Now get going. Your woman and your ‘salad’ picnic awaits. Oh, and take your phone in case you get attacked by bears.”
“It’s winter, Trev,” J.T. muttered as he picked up the basket. “They’re hibernating. And stop making fun of my picnic. If I’m not back for the party at Natalie and Blake’s later…”
“I’ll assume you’ve been eaten by some large animal,” Trev said. “Man, I hope I won’t see you for other reasons.”
That was assuming his talk with Caroline went well. And he thought it would—once he laid everything out and explained his reasoning. Then he could kiss her for real, and court her the way she deserved to be courted. Okay, so he’d lowered his guard and kissed her once, when he’d flown in for Evan’s fundraiser a few weeks after her trip to Rome. He’d come back to see her. Evan hadn’t needed him there. Then he’d had to pull back from her again, citing the museum and their professional relationship. He’d felt like crap, but today he was going to set the record straight for good.
“I’ll try not to cry myself to sleep if you don’t come home,” Trev said. “Oh, go have fun. You deserve it.”
Yes, he sure as hell did.
His Ferrari FF, chosen for its style and ability to handle snow, purred to life. Just because he didn’t live in Rome anymore didn’t mean he had to drive an SUV.
Caroline was staying with her mother this weekend since she was still working in Denver at the gallery. Pretty soon, she’d be able to resign and move to Dare Valley to work full-time on the museum. Many people would shrink from the prospect of starting a (hopefully) long-term relationship with someone they’d also be working with, but he couldn’t wait. They shared the same dream, and there was no better foundation for a future together.
He headed toward downtown, delighting in the sight of Main Street’s colorful shops like Don’t Soy With Me, where he could get a pretty decent espresso, thank God. When he arrived at April Hale’s house, he didn’t go to the door like usual. No, he was too eager to get going, and while he loved Caroline’s mother, they’d end up talking for twenty minutes. Living in a small town meant talking to people whenever he met them, either out at the bakery or the store. He liked that normally. Not today.
Caroline ran out of the house before he could text her, a treat for the eyes in a red winter jacket, white ear warmers, and bright blue winter pants.
“Hi there!” she said when she opened the door and jumped in. “Oh, I’m so excited. I can’t wait to see where we’re going.”
All he’d told her was to dress for the outdoors. “Hey. Come here.” He made himself kiss her Italian-style, but he let his mouth linger on her cheek.
So did she.
The urge to dip his lips down to her mouth was so strong, but he made himself wink at her and pull away. Her shoulders seemed to sag, and there was the familiar confusion in her eyes that gutted him.
“Let’s get going,” he said, revving the engine.
He drove them to Black Lake, and she bounced in her seat as they parked. “This is my favorite place in Dare Valley.”
“I know,” he said, unable to fight a smirk. “I asked your sister. Moira. Not Natalie.”
“How sweet!” she said. “Oh, I’m so happy, J.T. While I loved dashing off to see you in Rome and Napa, I have to admit, it’s much nicer now that you’re only two hours away.”
He couldn’t agree more. “And pretty soon you’ll be moving here once we make the announcement about the museum.”
“Now that your donation to Evan’s new company is out, it shouldn’t be too much longer,” she said. “Boy, you’re going to be racking up goodwill points with all this generosity.”
His conscience reared up, knowing his decisions hadn’t just come from a place of pure altruism. “I don’t know about that. Come on. Let’s get our picnic stuff. I’ve never had a snow picnic before, but your cousin Jill tells me they’re awesome.”
“Jill is game for anything,” she said. Her cousin was known for antics as wild as her curly red hair. “Brian told me the last time they went for a hike, she danced disco to make a moose go away.”
He laughed uneasily. “God, I hope we don’t run into any moose today.” While Trev’s mention of bears was unfounded, moose were dangerous. Mac Maven, the owner of The Grand Mountain Hotel, had horrified him with a story about what a moose had done to his sports car when he and his now-wife were inside.
“Don’t worry,” Caroline said as they exited. “I’ll protect you.”
He might bring some pepper spray along next time just in case. After grabbing the basket and a waterproof blanket, they walked on a path plowed by the park service. The sun was blinding, and J.T. was glad for his shades.
“Can you ice skate on the lake?” he asked. After all, it wasn’t a big lake and it looked completely frozen.
“Never ever ice skate unless there’s a sign with conditions posted,” Caroline said seriously as they spread the blanket out by the water and sat down. “Sorry, that sounded like a PSA. But you’re new to town, and I’d hate for someone to punk you. Like my brother, for example. They don’t call him Matty Ice only because he’s a tough guy.”
“Good to know.” If things didn’t go well with Caroline this afternoon, he could look forward to a hypothermic outing with her brother.
“I mean, you probably wouldn’t die, but it would be cold. Really, really cold.”
He laughed. He loved her sense of humor.
“Oh, you brought salads. How fabulous! Darn it, J.T., I told you to stop buying us the Armand de Brignac. Especially now that you’ve given away most of your money.”
He almost rolled his eyes. “Caroline, you know I still have millions from the trust my parents created when I was born. It’s not like I’m hurting. Besides, I wanted this to be special.” He needed her to know he could still stand on his own two feet financially and treat her right.
“It’s special because we’re together,” she said, “even though you’ve been acting a little weird lately. I imagine giving away that kind of money must be…an adjustment.”
“Caroline, there’s a reason I’ve been acting weird. I wanted to tell you before, but I thought it would be better to wait until—”
His “Gold Digger” ringtone sounded in his coat pocket and stopped him short. Shock rolled through him. No, it couldn’t be. Not Cynthia. It was like she had satellites watching him.
Pure terror followed. Why would his now ex-wife be calling him?
Don’t you dare pick up that phone, he could almost hear Trev hiss in his head. But he had to find out why she was calling. If he didn’t, he’d think of nothing else until he found out.
“That’s an interesting ringtone,” Caroline observed.
“Ah…Trev added it. He said to bring my phone with me…for the bears, and I…ah…forgot to put it on silent. Excuse me for just a moment.”
He trudged through the snow, bypassing the path,
hoping to get out of hearing range. “Cynthia, you shouldn’t be calling me. We’re divorced, remember?”
“I hoped you were going to pick up, J.T.,” Cynthia said in her perfectly pitched boarding school voice. “You didn’t think it was over simply because a judge stamped a piece of paper, did you? Oh, darling, you used to be so intelligent.”
God, at one time he’d thought she was as beautiful and charming as Grace Kelly. Her polished manners and style had pleased and impressed him. What a fool he’d been.
He wanted to grind his teeth. “What do you want, Cynthia?”
Her husky chuckle raised the hairs on the back of his neck. “What I’ve always wanted since you left me and the life I’d planned for us, darling. To make you suffer. I told you no one ever walks away from me. I do the walking if and when I choose. You humiliated me, J.T., and you’re going to keep paying for it.”
Keep calm. It’s spoiled grapes now. “I paid for three years, and it’s finally finished. We both get to move on with our lives.”
He glanced over to where Caroline was sitting, her back to him, as if she were giving him privacy. He would have found it sweet if he hadn’t been sweating bullets.
“No, you don’t. You finally showed me your new playbook. How nice of you. Then again, you always were a nice boy.”
Frustration raced through him, and he kicked at the snow. “This has to stop, Cynthia. I gave you more than you deserved, and I told you that was the end of it. The judge agreed.”
“Oh, J.T. Of course that wasn’t the end. I’ve heard rumblings about a Merriam art museum at various social engagements—you know art experts can’t keep their mouths shut even when you pay well.”
And he had paid well. If he found out who’d talked…
“I’ve wondered where it would be for some weeks, and now I know. That press release about Evan Michaels’ new company put the pin in the map. Of course you would want it to be at the university your great grandfather founded. You adore the man. It didn’t dawn on me before because it’s in some podunk town in Colorado. And not even somewhere with class like Aspen or Vail, darling, but Dare something.”
He told himself there was nothing she could do. This was harassment at best. She was acting out after receiving the final decree. Unfortunately, knowing that didn’t stop him from wanting to be sick. “Let it go, Cynthia, will you?”
“Do I hear a ‘please’ coming? Darling, you know me better. Once I set my sights on something, I go after it with everything I have at my disposal. When I saw you across the drawing room in that Lake Como villa, I decided I had to have you.”
Talking to her again, something he hadn’t done much of during the divorce proceedings, brought it all back. He’d fallen into her clutches just like everything else she’d decided to have. He’d been so charmed by the elegant, classy blond woman in the cream silk one-shoulder dress, the rich tones of her voice wrapping around him like the diamonds on her wrist. Cynthia Newhouse was interested in art. She was a noted philanthropist and socialite, praised for her charity fundraising. He’d thought they could do incredible things together in the world and have a rich personal life.
It was all a lie. The shiny image was only skin deep. Underneath the veneer was a ruthlessness and cruelty he hadn’t seen.
Two years into their marriage, he couldn’t take it anymore. He’d asked for a divorce, and she’d sworn to make him pay over and over again.
Moron that he was, he’d married her at her parents’ Hamptons estate in New York, a state with some of the most prohibitive divorce laws on the planet, giving her a huge leg up. Since they were both as rich as Croesus, he hadn’t suggested a pre-nup, another mistake. Her money wasn’t the only reason he’d held back. He’d been a romantic then, thinking that two people who loved each other enough to pledge to spend a lifetime together would never knowingly hurt or take from one another.
Cynthia and her lawyers had given him a cold, hard lesson in divorce. It wasn’t like they’d been married long, but family law didn’t seem to care about that. He’d paid for everything during the marriage, trying to be the “man,” and in so doing, he’d opened himself to her lawyers’ argument that she should be allowed to maintain the lifestyle she’d enjoyed while married to him.
“I’ve divested myself of all my money except the trust, which was created way before you and I got together,” he said, clenching his fist. “Talk to my lawyers if you want confirmation. They’ll tell you what I’d like to in nicer terms.”
“Oh, J.T. is displeased,” she said, speaking to him like he was a child. “How tragic. Darling, this was never about the money, and you know it.”
“You could have fooled me.”
“You still don’t understand? I went after your holdings because you value them, because the great and mighty Emmits Merriam entrusted them to you. Now you’ve given me something even more valuable. No one loves art quite like you do, and those paintings in your family collection are your pride and joy. Oh, darling, you’re making this too easy. I’ll be in touch.”
The line went dead, and he stared at the phone. Surely he’d finally checkmated her. They’d finally settled the terms of their divorce, for Christ’s sake.
What could she do to hurt him now? His so-called donation to Evan’s new company, Infinity Energy, should be untouchable, and Emmits Merriam University was a tax-exempt private university. He’d insisted admission to the museum would be free in his proposal to the trustees. If he hadn’t gone that route, Cynthia might have tried suggesting J.T. had gotten the idea for the museum during their marriage and, as such, was entitled to some of the money it generated. God, it was messed up that someone could claim ownership of another person’s dream.
Trev was going to have a fit when J.T. told him. Then again, wasn’t Trev here in Dare Valley because he’d expected something like this might happen? Hell, all of J.T.’s siblings had been against his marriage. If only he’d listened to them.
“Dammit!” he whispered, kicking more snow.
He’d need to alert Evan Michaels and Chase Parker about the call. While he didn’t think Cynthia could do anything about the money he’d donated, it wouldn’t hurt to be on guard.
But there was something he needed to do first. He headed toward Caroline, unable to stop the litany in his ears.
He’d be damned if he’d let it start all over again.
Chapter 3
Caroline stood up as she watched J.T. tromp through the snow back to her. He was clearly upset, and she was having a hard time keeping herself from dwelling over who’d called him. She’d never heard that ringtone before. Could it be an enterprising ex-girlfriend? It seemed like the kind of thing Trev would find funny.
“All right, let’s hear it,” she said when he reached her. “Something is obviously wrong.”
He took her hands. “You know how much you mean to me, right?”
The girlfriend line of reasoning was looking more plausible. “Yes, J.T., but frankly, I’m a little worried right now.”
He helped her sit back down and cuddled close. “Me too, if I’m being completely honest. Remember how I told you that I…needed to put the brakes on our relationship until some secrets were out in the open?”
“Like the big announcement in the press release yesterday? It hurt me that you didn’t think you could trust me with that. I would never have told anyone.”
“That wasn’t completely the reason.” He paused, as if searching for the right words.
This was sounding worse and worse. “Who were you talking to, J.T.?”
“My ex-wife.”
“Your ex-wife!” Caroline shouted back. “You were married? Wait! How did you not tell me something this important?”
She couldn’t have heard him right.
“I wanted to wait until the final decree came through to tell you everything, and it did a couple days ago, thank God.”
“Then why are you talking to your ex now? Are you thinking about a reconciliation? Oh, God. This can’
t be happening.” She’d fallen for him in the freaking gallery. Gone to Rome. Daydreamed after he’d taken her walking through the vineyards in Napa. Imagined their families getting together for the holidays. He’d swept her off her feet, and now she realized it had left her with a long way to fall.
He shook her hands as if to grab her attention. “It’s not what you’re thinking. If she fell off the face of the earth, I’d pop open the most expensive champagne I own—just like I did with Trev when the judge finally granted me a divorce.”
She sagged against him. “Sorry, my mind went to a dark place. I expect you have a good reason for keeping this to yourself. You’ve always struck me as an honest man.”
He shook his head. “Thank you for that. I try to be—despite how this situation seems. Let me start at the beginning. It’s a long and depressing tale, and I really wanted it to be behind me before I started something with you. Caroline, the relationship ended three years ago, but I didn’t feel it was right…”
“To begin something with me,” she finished. “Okay, I see your point.”
“Trev said I spared you a lot of worry,” J.T. said, taking his sunglasses off. “It’s hard to convey how hard the last three years have been. I didn’t want it to touch you, especially when we’d only just—”
“Reconnected,” she whispered, studying his beautiful green eyes. “And fallen for each other.”
“I was so into you,” he said, gripping her hand. “I didn’t want to taint what we might have.”
The sincerity with which he said it made her heart swell and took some weight off her shoulders. “Okay, let’s get through the particulars. How long were you married? What’s her name?” She really didn’t want to hear it, but this was part of his personal history, and that made it important to her. Plus, it seemed to be affecting the situation between them, and knowing more might help her better understand.
“Thank you,” he said, releasing a deep breath. “We were only married for two years. Her name is Cynthia Newhouse, and she…wasn’t the woman I thought she was. Everyone thinks she’s this beautiful, generous philanthropist, but she’s…”
