by Naima Simone
The meeting continued for the next couple of hours, and by the time Reagan left the clubhouse and pulled up outside the small town house rental she and Ezekiel had moved into, satisfaction was a warm glow inside of her. Satisfaction and excitement.
Working with the Wingate women and Gracie had stirred ideas about a possible fundraiser for the girls’ home where she volunteered. With her father withholding her inheritance, Reagan might not be able to build her own home anytime soon, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t come up with an alternative to support the unwed and pregnant girls who needed help. And that included investing her time.
But with Ezekiel and his family feverishly working to salvage what was left of Wingate Enterprises, that time might be reduced as she needed to look for a job. She refused to just stand by while her husband exhausted himself to support her.
An agenda other than love might’ve been behind their marriage, but she meant what she’d told Beth earlier. For better or worse. And though their union had a time limit, she would stand beside him for however long she wore his last name.
Longer.
Climbing from the car, she shut the door behind her and strode up the short walk to the front door.
“Reagan,” someone called behind her.
Lowering the key she’d been about to slide into the door, Reagan turned and smiled as Piper Holloway, Ezekiel’s aunt, approached her, carrying a large brown-paper-covered parcel.
“Here, let me get that for you,” Reagan said, hurrying toward the other woman.
But Piper laughed. “No need. I’m fine. Believe me, running an art gallery as many years as I have has given me muscles you probably can’t see.” Reaching Reagan, she leaned over and brushed an airy kiss over her cheek. “I have a little housewarming gift for you and my sneaky nephew.” She tsked, shaking her head. “Running off to get married without a word to any of us. If I wasn’t so happy for both of you, I’d be more than a little upset I didn’t get to stand beside you two on your wedding day.”
“It was a little spur-of-the-moment, otherwise I know he would’ve wanted you there,” Reagan murmured. It was true. While Ava Wingate could be a little standoffish, her younger sister Piper was incredibly open and warm. Harley, at least, had preferred her aunt’s company and easy affection to her mother’s frequent criticism. “And thank you for the gift. You didn’t have to travel all the way from Dallas to bring it.”
“My pleasure. I wanted to congratulate you two in person anyway.”
“Well, I know Zeke will be pleased to see you,” Reagan said, turning back to the door and unlocking it. “Come on in.”
She stepped back and allowed Piper to enter first. “Hey, Zeke, I’m back,” Reagan announced, shutting the door behind her. “Look who I found outside—” She drew to a halt, spying that Ezekiel wasn’t alone. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had company.”
“Hey, sweetheart,” Ezekiel greeted, striding forward. He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, then, removing the package from his aunt’s grasp, drew her in for a one-armed hug. Reagan’s lips tingled, and she forced herself not to touch them. Part of the show, she reminded herself. It’s all for show. “Aunt Piper, I didn’t know you were coming over.”
“I’m that impolite guest that just drops by unannounced,” she joked, wrapping an arm around her nephew’s waist and squeezing.
Ezekiel chuckled. “Never impolite or unwelcome. Have you met Brian Cooper?” He turned toward the tall, dark-haired man standing next to the living room couch. “Reagan, Aunt Piper, this is Brian Cooper, an attorney from the Dallas area. His uncle is Keith Cooper.”
Surprise winged through Reagan at that bit of news. Why would Keith’s nephew be here at their home? Especially considering how Ezekiel felt about the man his aunt Ava had moved in with.
“Brian,” Ezekiel went on, “I’d like to introduce you to my wife, Reagan, and my aunt, Piper Holloway.”
“It’s nice to meet you both.” Brian crossed the small room and shook hands with both of them.
Although, his gaze lingered on Piper.
O-kay.
With sharpened interest, Reagan studied the other man and woman. Piper, slim, tall, with her edgy, short cut and dark green eyes, was an older, beautiful, sophisticated woman. And apparently Brian, who couldn’t look away from her, seemed to agree. They did make a striking couple. And from the way Piper tried—and failed—not to study the younger man from under her dark lashes, she had to notice how handsome the attorney with the athletic build was.
As if he could sense her thoughts, Brian glanced at her, and Reagan arched an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “So you’re from Dallas, too?” she asked. “Piper owns one of the most influential and prestigious art galleries there.”
“Holloway Gallery downtown?” Brian asked Piper.
“Yes, that’s me,” Piper acknowledged. “Have you been in before?”
“Yes, I’ve been to a couple of shows there.” He slid his hands into the front pockets of his pants. “The gallery isn’t far from my office. Maybe we could get together for a cup of coffee soon.”
“We’ll see,” she murmured, then switched her attention to her nephew. “Since I didn’t get an invite to the wedding—and don’t think I’m letting you off the hook for that anytime soon—I brought by a painting for your new home.”
The next half hour flew by, and when Piper and Brian left, Reagan closed the door behind them, then whipped around to face Ezekiel.
“I think your friend has a crush on your aunt,” she teased.
He snorted. “I hate it for him if he does, because even I felt that brush-off.”
“Yeah, it was kind of obvious. Why do you think she did? Piper tried to hide it, but she kept peeking at him.” Reagan frowned. “You think maybe she’s self-conscious about the age difference? Which is silly. He is younger, but she’s a gorgeous, vivacious and successful woman. Any man, regardless of age, would be lucky to have her look their way.”
“Sweetheart, are you really asking me to think about my aunt’s dating habits? As far as I’m concerned, she’s a virgin,” Ezekiel drawled.
Laughing, Reagan strode across the floor to him. After a brief hesitation, she pressed against him and circled her arms around his neck. Rising to her toes, she kissed him, and the desire that never banked for him flickered into higher, hotter flames.
They hadn’t drawn up rules dictating this new turn in their relationship. Part of her was okay with it—no rules meant she couldn’t break them when she just wanted to casually touch him like this. But the other part of her needed to know what they were doing. Because every time she kissed him, touched him, woke up next to him, she couldn’t stop craving more. Even if her mind warned her against that greed, that it could only end in heartache, her heart didn’t seem to be heeding the memo.
Because somewhere along the line, her heart had chosen him. Maybe when she’d come upon him visiting his ex-fiancée’s grave. Maybe when he’d laid his head in her lap and allowed her to help ease some of his burden. Maybe when he hadn’t judged her after she’d revealed her past.
Did it really matter when? Her stupid, never-learn-its-damn-lesson heart had thrown itself at him, and he was Teflon. At sixteen, her reckless, headfirst dive into love could be chalked up to immaturity. But this dizzying, terrifying leap? She was going in knowing Ezekiel didn’t want her future, her affection outside of the bedroom, and most certainly not her love.
And yet...
Yet he had it. All of her.
“How was your day?” Ezekiel asked, planting one last kiss against her mouth.
“Good.” She forced a smile to her lips even though it trembled. “I spent time at the girls’ home, then headed over to the clubhouse for a meeting with Beth, Harley and Gracie about the masquerade ball. I bought tickets for us, by the way. I wanted to get ours before they were sold out—w
hat? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Go ahead with what you were saying.” Ezekiel shrugged, stepping back and heading out of the small foyer toward the living room.
No, she hadn’t imagined that flicker of unease in his eyes or the tightening of his mouth. Something had triggered his reaction. Running her words through her head, she stared at his back and the tense set of his wide shoulders.
“Zeke, if it’s about the tickets... If you’d prefer not to attend the ball because of everything that’s going on, I fully understand. It’s just that the rest of your family is going, and I thought you’d want to be there as well. But I can—”
“Ray,” he said, voice soft but firm. “We’re going to the ball. Please drop it. Everything’s fine.”
No. Everything wasn’t fine, but he wouldn’t share with her. Since returning from Vegas, Ezekiel had grown increasingly distant. Not physically—he was as passionate and insatiable with her as ever. Even more so in some ways. As if an element of desperation had crept into the sex. But a wall had sprung up around his emotions. Like now. He stood mere feet away from her, but he might as well as be on the other side of Royal. Or at the office, where he spent hours and hours into the night trying to salvage his family’s business.
Speaking of...
“What are you doing home so early?” she asked. “It’s only six, and usually you’re still at the office. Did something happen?”
He shook his head, a faint smile playing at the corner of his sensual lips. “No, sweetheart. Everything’s fine. I just asked Brian to meet me here instead of at the office. I wanted to talk with him about the legal issues with your inheritance. And I didn’t want to do that at the office.”
“I wondered about that. Are you sure you can trust him? I know how you feel about his uncle.”
Ezekiel rubbed his bearded jaw. “I really like him in spite of who he’s related to. I’ve met him before, and he’s always struck me as a good guy. And a damn good attorney. He promised to look into your grandmother’s will and see if there’s a way to get around your father’s hold on your inheritance.”
“That’s good,” she said. “Do you think maybe you could ask him to look into something else as well?” She relayed the circumstances around Gracie and her cousin. “Maybe knowing what legal claim her cousin actually has will give her some ammunition going into this battle.”
“Damn, I hate that for Gracie. This money should be a blessing, not a curse.” Ezekiel pulled his cell phone from his pants pocket, then tapped out something on the screen. “I have something even better. I’ll ask Miles if he can find out anything on this cousin. If he isn’t able to, then it can’t be found.”
Miles Wingate, Ezekiel’s cousin, owned Steel Security, a company that protected high-powered clients both physically and online. No doubt he could unearth any information on Alberto Diaz.
“Thanks, Zeke. I’m sure Gracie would appreciate it.”
“She’s family,” he said simply, and for him, that was it. Family took care of family.
“Oh, I have some potentially good news,” Reagan announced, circling around Ezekiel and picking up the coffee cups and saucers on the table in front of the couch. “I let the supervisor over at the home know that I would be cutting back on my volunteer time since I would be looking for employment. And she said an administrative position might be opening with the organization, and she would put my name in for it. With my experience there, she thinks I would be a good fit. So not only would I have a job but at a place I love.”
“That’s wonderful, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I hope it works out.”
There it was again. That note in his voice. That flash of emotion across his face and in his eyes.
“Zeke,” she said, the cups and plates suddenly weighing down her arms.
“Reagan.” He stepped closer, cradling her face and tilting his head down. He placed a tender kiss on her forehead, then nudged her chin up to look into her eyes. “Seriously, with your passion for their project, they would be fools not to snatch you up.” He took the cups and saucers from her. “How about going out for dinner tonight?”
With a kiss to her temple, he left the living room for the kitchen, leaving her to stare behind him.
He couldn’t fool her. Something was bothering him.
But why didn’t he share it with her? What was he not telling her?
And why did the thought of it have unease curdling in her stomach?
Fifteen
Ezekiel sipped from his glass of whiskey as he stared out the dark window of his new living room. This late at night, he couldn’t see much, but he knew what lay beyond the glass. And the view of the tiny, fenced-in backyard with its postage-stamp-size patio couldn’t be more different than the rolling, green hills of the ranch where he’d lived for so many years.
I would be cutting back on my volunteer time since I would be looking for employment.
I bought tickets for us, by the way.
He lifted an arm, pressed a palm to the wall and bowed his head. But that did nothing but amplify the words ricocheting in his head. Dammit. Straightening, he tipped his glass back and downed the rest of the alcohol. As it blazed a path down his throat, he welcomed the burn when it hit his chest. Anything was better than the dread and hated sense of inevitability that usually resided there these days.
God knows, he wasn’t one of those men who preferred that their women not work. They needed to feel fulfilled and purposeful, too. But that wasn’t why Reagan was seeking a job. He was the reason. The scandal and the resulting fallout that threatened his family’s company and reputation and his own investments. They were living off his savings right now, and they weren’t anywhere near the poorhouse, but to Reagan...
He huffed out a hard, ragged breath.
Her father had been right. Ezekiel might be able to provide for her, but he couldn’t protect her from the whispers, the condemnation, the scorn. He’d married her so she could have freedom and all he’d given her was a prison sentence to a man and family scarred by scandal. He’d failed her in every way that counted. At least to him as a man, a husband. Hell, he’d had to call another man and ask him for help to solve his wife’s problem. Because he couldn’t do it himself.
Just today, they’d had to lay off more employees from Wingate. Employees who depended on him, on his family, for their livelihoods. And all he could do was sit in his office with his thumb up his ass futilely trying to figure out a way to help. To do fucking something.
If he couldn’t save his family’s company, how could he possibly help Reagan save her inheritance, help her achieve her dream of a home for unwed, pregnant teens here in Royal? Help her have the life, the future she wanted?
The answer was simple.
He couldn’t.
He’d failed Melissa so many years ago. He’d failed the Wingates.
He’d failed Reagan.
And with her beautiful, wounded heart, her indomitable spirit and strength, she deserved better. So much better.
Better was a man who could protect her from the ugliness of life and follow through on his promises.
Better was a man who was brave enough to love her without fear.
Better was not him.
“Zeke?”
Lowering his arm, he pivoted to find Reagan standing in the hall entrance, a black nightgown molding to her sensual curves. The sucker punch of desire to his gut wasn’t a surprise. By now, he accepted that he wouldn’t be able to look at her, to be in the same damn state as her, and not want her.
He turned back to the window.
“What’re you doing up, Reagan?” He’d waited until she’d fallen asleep, their skin still damp from sex, before he’d left their bed.
“I should ask you that same question. And I am. What’s wrong, Zeke?” Moments later, her fingers curled around the hand still holding the empty tumbler. S
he gently took it from him, setting it on the table behind them. “And don’t tell me nothing again. I can see how stressed you are. How tired. It’s Wingate, isn’t it?”
He didn’t immediately reply, mentally corralling and organizing his words. But when he parted his lips, nothing of the pat, simple reply emerged.
“When I told Luke about our engagement, he accused me of trying to save you. Because I failed with Melissa.”
“Failed with Melissa?” she repeated. “Zeke, she died in a car accident.”
“Yes.” He nodded, images of that night so long ago flashing across the screen of his mind. “But what you don’t know is I was supposed to be in the car that night. I was supposed to be driving. If I had been, maybe...” He didn’t finish the thought, but he didn’t need to. He’d repeated the words so often over the years, they were engraved on his soul.
“Then maybe you would both be dead,” Reagan said, grasping his upper arm and tugging until he turned from the window and looked down at her.
Dammit. He hadn’t wanted to do that. Would’ve avoided staring down into her beautiful face if he had his way. Because those espresso eyes, elegant cheekbones and lush mouth unraveled his already frayed resolve.
“There is no guarantee that you would’ve been able to save her. The only person responsible for her death is the drunk driver who crashed into her. This isn’t your burden to bear, Zeke.”
He heard her—had heard the same from Luke, Harley and Piper over the years. But the guilt remained. It burrowed down deep below bone and marrow.
“You know, when I first told Luke I asked you to marry me, he accused me of having a savior complex—of trying to rescue you, because I couldn’t do the same with Melissa. I told Luke that wasn’t true,” he continued, not addressing her assertion of his innocence. “And at the time, I believed it. Melissa had nothing to do with you, and I wasn’t trying to save you. But now...” He gently removed her hand from his arm. “Now, I think he had a point, and I was fooling myself into believing I could help you. Provide for you. Protect you. I can’t, Reagan. Your father was right, and we both know it.”
