Bombshell For The Black Sheep (Southern Secrets Book 3)

by Janice Maynard

  That was dangerous thinking. Such an idea made their brief dalliance more than it was. Why would a man avoid sex for the sake of two isolated one-night stands?

  Believing in rainbows, pots of gold, unicorns and happily-ever-afters wasn’t who Fiona was anymore. Over the course of her adolescence, she had stomped on her rose-colored glasses. She now viewed the world as it was. Broken. Hurtful. Uncaring.

  Maybe that was harsh. She had wonderful friends. But the belief that a man and a woman could form a lasting bond on the basis of a few nights of hot sexual insanity was a fiction she couldn’t embrace. She wouldn’t.

  Idly, she stroked the back of his head, feeling the silky hair slide between her fingers. The other Tarleton twin was a fine figure of a man, but she preferred Hartley’s rough-around-the-edges masculinity. He could be brash and unrepentant and frustratingly stubborn, but he tugged at her heartstrings as no other man ever had.

  When he could breathe again, he lifted his head. “Damn, woman. You’re killing me.” He kissed her slow and deep, his tongue mating with hers. “I don’t want closure, Fee. I want you.”

  He punctuated his declaration with a string of kisses down the side of her neck, to her throat, to her breasts. Licking them. Nibbling. Forcing her to acknowledge his mastery of her body.

  How could he do it to her so quickly? She was on the verge of climax again. Panic gripped her in a choke hold. This had to stop. Her mornings were iffy now. She and Hartley couldn’t be wrapped in each other’s arms when the sun came up. “You should go,” she said, blurting out the words with no finesse at all. “It’s late.” I can’t take the risk you’ll stay until morning, see me barf and guess the truth.

  Six

  Hartley jerked, stunned. He would have been less shocked if she had slapped his face. He’d been within an inch of giving his sweet Fee a second orgasm when she slammed some kind of door between them.

  He gaped. “Are you serious?” Her raspberry nipples were puckered, begging for his attention.

  For some reason, Fiona’s gaze slid away. “I have to work early in the morning.” She slipped out of bed and tugged the coverlet from the foot of the mattress, wrapping it around herself toga-style. “Thank you for telling me why you were gone so long. I hope you and your brother work things out between you.”

  He staggered to his feet, his brain racing to understand what had just happened. “Are you angry with me?” He frowned, knowing she had every right to evict him, and yet hurt that she could seem so unaffected by what for him had been cataclysmic.

  As he reached for his clothes and reluctantly dressed, Fiona shook her head slowly. Smoky blue eyes stared at him. “Of course not. You did what you had to do.”

  “The past is the past,” he muttered. “I’m more interested in what comes next. I’m not done with you, Fee.”

  Her eyes flashed. “It’s not up to you, now is it? I didn’t put my life on hold while you were gone. You can’t drop back in and expect everything to be the way you want it.”

  Was this some kind of test? Was he supposed to work for absolution?

  Screw that. He owed her an apology, and he had given it, sincerely and wholeheartedly. But he wouldn’t crawl. First Jonathan and now Fiona. Was there no one who believed in him?

  When he was fully clad, he shot her an angry glare. “I get it,” he said. “You don’t want to sleep with me anymore. Casual sex isn’t your thing, is that it? No worries. Now that I’m home for good, I’m sure there are plenty of available women in Charleston. Good night, Fiona. I’ll let myself out.”

  Even then he thought she might relent. She certainly seemed miserable. But she didn’t say a word as he stormed out. He heard the snick of the dead bolt on the front door after it closed behind him. By the time he reached the sidewalk and headed for his car, the lights inside the house had been extinguished. He stood in the middle of the street...all alone.

  In a year and a month and a week that had sucked big time, this was perhaps his lowest point. The investigation was over. Fiona no longer wanted him around. He had reconciled with his family...barely. But there was apparently no longer a spot for him at Tarleton Shipping. That ship had sailed.

  He couldn’t even laugh at his own stupid joke. Nor could he face returning to the house that wasn’t a home, the house he was going to sell sooner than later.

  Instead, he drove aimlessly around Fiona’s neighborhood. All her fellow Charlestonians were tucked in for the evening. No teenagers on skateboards. No sweethearts kissing good-night on street corners. Just peace and silence and the sense of a community at rest.

  And then he spotted it. A small for-sale sign in front of a three-story brick monstrosity. The house was older than its neighbors and in bad need of repair.

  Hartley pulled out his phone and looked up the specs on the Realtor’s website. From the pictures, it was no wonder the house had been on the market over a hundred days. It probably had dry rot. Black mold. Maybe even termite infestation.

  His spirits lifted. It was exactly the kind of project a man needed when he was looking for an anchor. And it had the added advantage of being under his lover’s nose.

  If he had genuinely thought Fiona was not interested in a sexual relationship with him, he would have walked away. After all, they had almost nothing in common beyond a visceral attraction. But she was the one who invited him to her bed tonight. Because the sex was great. Right? Up until that very last part, she had been a willing and eager participant.

  It was a puzzle. One he was happy to study until he found the answers. For now, he would give her some space.

  Unfortunately, not even a real estate agent hungry for a sale would appreciate a call after eleven at night. Hartley would have to be patient until morning. He decided to make a lowball cash offer, and then while he tried to woo his prickly artist, he would have a project to keep him busy.

  Having a plan brought a measure of resolve. He hated uncertainty...always had. Make a choice, even if it’s the wrong one. That’s how he operated.

  It was late. He knew he needed to go home. But there was one more sore spot he needed to explore.

  From Fiona’s house, the drive to Tarleton headquarters took no time at all. The building was as familiar to him as his childhood bedroom. He parked right in front. Nothing to hide. Inside, there would be a night watchman somewhere.

  At the main entrance, he entered a six-digit code in the electronic keypad and swiped his ID card. To his surprise, the door opened easily. Had Jonathan forgotten to revoke his credentials? Or had he believed Hartley would eventually come home? Either way, it soothed some of Hartley’s rough-edged discontent to know he was able to walk inside.

  His desk and his office were exactly as he had left them. For the first time, he began to understand how difficult his absence must have been for Jonathan. The questions. The work piling up.

  A sound in the outer office had him whirling on his heel. Jonathan leaned against the wall, his expression inscrutable. Clearly, he had gone home after work and come back, because he was wearing old jeans and a T-shirt that had seen better days.

  Hartley felt his neck heat. “I was just looking around. I wasn’t here to steal the silver.”

  Jonathan shrugged. “I’m not accusing you of anything.”

  “Not at the moment.” Hartley grimaced. Being at odds with his twin was a physical pain. He cleared his throat. “I’ll go. Sorry to have bothered you.”

  Jonathan held up a hand. “You put the money back yesterday.” It was neither a simple statement nor a question, but maybe a blend of both.

  “I did, yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I was always going to put it back. But neither you nor Dad cared to ask for an explanation. You just assumed the worst.”

  His brother frowned. “Don’t turn this on me. You were the one who made off with a million bucks as if it were nothing more
than Monopoly money.”

  “I had my reasons.”

  “Okay.” Jonathan folded his arms across his chest. “Let’s hear them. I’ve got all night.”

  It was a challenge. Plain and simple. A showdown. But Hartley was going to have to swallow his pride and walk away. He’d already told the story once.

  No matter how much he wanted to erase the gaping void between him and his brother, he couldn’t dump what he knew on Jonathan. Not without thinking it through.

  Maybe Fiona was right. Maybe he owed his siblings the truth. But at what cost? They would both be hurt, as Hartley had been. Unsettled. Dismayed. And without their father to provide answers, this information Hartley had uncovered served no useful purpose.

  Hartley cleared his throat. “It’s late. The tale will keep for now. Good night, Jonathan.”

  When he went to slip past the president and CEO of Tarleton Shipping, his brother put a hand on his shoulder. For a moment, they both breathed the same air. Jonathan squeezed briefly, then stepped aside. “I believe you had your reasons. They may not have been good reasons. I’d still like to hear them.”

  Jonathan was reaching out. Making the first move. Being the bigger man.

  Hartley was frozen with indecision. The irony of the situation would have been humorous if the stakes hadn’t been so high. Here he was, a guy who believed in always stepping out, sure the path would appear from within the fog.

  Now, when it mattered the most, he couldn’t do it. The truth had hurt Hartley badly. Why inflict that pain on the man who shared his blood? The brother he loved.

  He swallowed hard. “My reasons don’t exist anymore. That’s why I put the money back. I’m sorry I left you hanging, though. You’ve carried the brunt of Father’s illness and the way that complicated the business. I’m sorry, Jonathan. I really am.”

  His brother’s smile was wry but genuine. “You’d do the same thing again, though. Am I right?”

  Hartley considered the question. Ignorance might be bliss, but not for him. He’d done what he had to do to protect his family. Maybe his ultimate task was to be the keeper of the secrets.

  “Yes,” he muttered. “I’d do it again. Why didn’t you tell Mazie about the money?”

  Jonathan raked a hand through his short hair, for the first time, betraying exhaustion. He looked beaten. Defeated. “Mazie adores you. I didn’t know where you were or why you were gone. The missing money only made it worse. I figured you deserved whatever happened to you, but Mazie’s big heart would have been shattered.”

  “Thank you,” Hartley said.

  “Don’t thank me. I did it for her.”

  The snap in Jonathan’s voice was both startling and depressing. Hartley’s twin might have made an overture a few moments ago, but he was still very angry.

  Nothing was going to be gained by rehashing old arguments. The untold truth lay between them, terrible and dangerous. It had unmanned Hartley, left him despairing and aching with hurt. Although it had been cathartic to unburden himself to Fiona, he hadn’t even let her hear the worst of it. Unless Hartley was willing to tell Jonathan what had transpired in Europe, there was nothing left to say.

  “I’ll let myself out,” he said dully. “Good night.”

  * * *

  The morning after Hartley made love to her, Fiona knew without a doubt that she had made the right choice in sending him home. She awoke violently sick, unable to hold down either tea or toast until almost noon. Then, it was all she could do to drag herself to the studio.

  She needed to buy a pregnancy test. That was how these situations worked. The thought of getting in a car and driving somewhere was more than she could manage.

  So she painted. In short bursts of energy. Twenty minutes here. Thirty minutes here. Astonishingly, the project began to take shape. By late afternoon, she actually felt hungry.

  She was cleaning brushes and tidying her work space when her doorbell rang. Hartley. Was she irritated by his persistence or flattered that he was back again?

  When she opened the door with a neutral smile, the smile faded. Her caller wasn’t Hartley. Instead, Mazie Tarleton Vaughan stood on the porch. “May I come in?” she asked, not bothering with social niceties like hellos or explanations.

  “Umm...” Fiona felt awkwardly self-conscious, as if Mazie could see the possible pregnancy on her face.

  The other woman vibrated with impatience. “I won’t stay long.”

  There was nothing more to say after that, short of being unforgivably rude. “Of course...” Fiona stepped back, allowing her unexpected visitor to enter.

  Hartley’s sister surveyed the small house, at least the parts she could see from the foyer. “This is nice,” she said. “It suits you.”

  “Thank you, I—”

  Mazie interrupted. “We can do the get-to-know-you thing another day, but I’m here to talk about Hartley. Is he okay?”

  “What do you mean?” Fiona winced inwardly. She had never been good at prevarication.

  “Don’t play dumb...please. My own brother has kept me in the dark. I don’t need it from you, too. Hartley has a thing for you. Obviously. Which means he must have told you why he left. Right?”

  Suddenly, Fiona could see beneath Mazie’s imperious demand to the scared sister underneath. “Why don’t we sit down?” She steered her guest toward the comfortable sofa and perched on the armchair that had seen better days. “I do know some of it,” she said carefully. “But only very recently did he tell me anything. I was as much in the dark as you were. Yes, he’s fine. A little lost maybe...after being gone so long.”

  “He needs to be back at Tarleton Shipping. He belongs there.”

  “I’m not sure he feels welcome.”

  Mazie’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

  “Your brothers have some issues to work out. According to Hartley, Jonathan is angry. And not inclined to welcome the prodigal with open arms.”

  Mazie burst into tears.

  Well, crap. Fiona was not equipped to deal with all this family drama. It was why she lived alone. And worked alone. Still, she was not hard-hearted enough to ignore the other woman’s distress.

  She sat down beside Hartley’s sister and handed her a tissue. “It will work itself out. Give them time.”

  Mazie wiped her eyes and sniffed. “You clearly don’t know my brothers very well. They are both stubborn as sin.”

  “Well, based on the one I do know, I have to agree.”

  Tears continued to roll down Mazie’s cheeks. Somehow, Hartley’s sister was as beautiful as ever. Hardly seemed fair. When Fiona cried, her face turned into a blotchy mess.

  Mazie sniffed and scrubbed her cheeks with her hands. “Don’t mind me. I’ve been on fertility drugs, and I’m a mess.”

  “That must be stressful,” Fiona said quietly, keenly aware that her own body was out of her control at the moment. “Is there anything I can do for you? A cup of hot tea, maybe? I’m a bit of a connoisseur. Tea always helps me when it’s that time of the month, so I keep plenty of bags on hand. I can offer you a wide range of choices.”

  Hartley’s sister sat up straight, an arrested look on her face. She grabbed up her purse, took out her phone and opened a calendar app. “Oh, wow.”

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve been so upset with the funeral and everything that I haven’t paid attention.”

  “Paid attention to what?”

  Mazie’s expression was equal parts wonderment and bewilderment. “I missed my period, Fiona. I’m six days late.”

  Seven

  Fiona smiled. “That’s good, right?”

  Her visitor was pale, her chin wobbly. “We’ve been disappointed so many times. I can’t tell J.B. Not yet.” She grabbed Fiona’s arm. “Will you do me a favor?”

  “Well, I—”


  “Nothing big. Everybody in this city knows my family. If I stop in somewhere and buy a pregnancy test, word will get back to my husband before I return home. I don’t want to get his hopes up until I know for sure.”

  Fiona felt like she was in the middle of a bad joke. “You want me to buy you a pregnancy test?”

  Mazie’s smile was sunny and cajoling, her tears forgotten. “Please. I’ll drive. All you have to do is run inside the store and get it for me. Easy peasy.”

  “How can I say no?” Fiona wanted to laugh, but she didn’t dare. “Let me change clothes. I’m speedy. Won’t take long.”

  In her bedroom, she stripped off her jeans and T-shirt and stared at herself in the mirror. At this particular moment, she didn’t feel pregnant. Her tummy was flat, her body unchanged. Maybe she had the flu. The summer flu that only happened in the mornings. Oh, Lordy...

  Mazie was snooping unashamedly when Fiona returned to the living room. She held out a small framed check for fifty dollars. “What’s this?”

  Fiona dropped her purse on a chair. “It’s the first money I ever made as a professional artist. I was dead broke, and I needed so badly to cash it and pay my rent. But I decided to believe in my future and to believe there would be other checks coming. So far, I haven’t had to break the glass.”

  Mazie nodded, returning the small frame to its spot on a bookshelf. “I know what you mean. Not the money part. My family has been fortunate in that way. But when I realized I didn’t want to follow the boys into the family business, it was a struggle to decide what I was interested in—and then to make it happen. Now I sell jewelry in the historic district. I love my shop, and I do very well. It makes you proud, doesn’t it? Women are always being underestimated. Drives me nuts.”

  Fiona grinned. Mazie was a firecracker. Fiona liked her. A lot. And although she had never had a real sister, Hartley’s sibling was exactly the kind of female Fiona had envisioned when she wished for one.

  Mazie handed over two twenties. “I don’t know how much they’ll cost at a convenience store. I’ve written down the brand I’d like to have. If you have to pick a second choice, I’ll take what I can get.”