His fingertips itched from wanting to touch her. He was longing to hold her. Every time she smiled at her sons, he wanted to kiss her. And at night, he lay awake in a near-constant state of frustration.
She was only steps down the hall in the guest room. He pictured her silk nightgown, her creamy shoulders. In his mind he saw her sleeping, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, lips slightly parted. He’d kissed her awake more than once. And then...
He gritted his teeth and gave himself a shake, focusing his attention on reality.
As he did, and as he surveyed the scene, a cold realization came over him. It was the boys they wanted. It was Callie they needed. If Callie walked away from him, the Clarksons would welcome her with open arms.
Deacon was entirely expendable.
* * *
Callie had let ten days go by.
First Ethan had been sick. Then Margo wanted some time with her grandchildren. She’d asked to take them shopping and to the funfair at the pier. Dee always came along and lent a hand, making Callie feel quite spoiled.
Deacon had stayed busy, working all day, coming home late, making it easy for her to push their problems to the background. He never asked if she was staying, never asked if she was going.
She wanted to leave. But leaving meant telling the world she’d made a mistake, telling Hannah and everyone back in Charleston she’d been a fool. Telling Margo she was taking the boys away. It meant giving a final decision to Deacon and maybe fighting with him about it.
She didn’t want to fight with Deacon. She wanted to laugh with him again, talk to him about anything and nothing. She wanted to hold him, kiss him, make love with him and sleep in his arms again. Her soul ached with missing him.
She walked back out onto the deck, in the cool dark of the evening. She’d played with the boys in the hot tub before bundling them off to bed. Now, she picked up the discarded towels and reached in for the floating toys.
Her hand skimmed the warm water. She’d pulled on her cover-up, but her bathing suit was still damp underneath. She was chilled now, and the hot water felt wonderful.
She knew that just inside the door was the wet bar, with wine and brandy, and anything else that might strike her fancy. The moon was full, the lights in the garden glowing, with a view overlooking the town and the dark ocean beyond.
She hadn’t spent much time, really no time at all appreciating her surroundings. Deacon had a wonderful house, in a beautiful spot, with every amenity a person could wish for.
Making up her mind, she padded inside, the carpet soft against her bare feet. She found a small snifter, chose a pretty brandy label and poured herself a drink.
She dimmed the lights, discarded her cover-up and lowered herself into the hot water, turning the jets to high and facing the view. She sipped the brandy as the water pulsated against her lower back and surged between her shoulder blades.
“You look comfortable,” Deacon said from behind her, his voice deep and melodious.
For a moment, she let the sound wash over her, leaving her skin tingling.
“I didn’t know you were here,” she said, craning her neck to look at him.
He moved into her view. “I just got home.”
“Working late?” A part of her wanted to laugh at the banal conversation, as if they were a normal couple, on a normal night, in a normal circumstance.
He crouched on his haunches and trailed his hand through the water.
She watched with rapt attention, imagining it on her skin.
“Growing pains,” he said.
“Hmm?” She forced herself to look up.
“The port is growing, and there are some tough decisions to make.”
She was surprised he was sharing. He didn’t seem to ever talk about work. She knew he’d lied about Mobi Transportation looking at relocating to Charleston. It was a minor lie in the scheme of things.
It was true that he was a shareholder at Mobi, but his real job was in the family firm of Hale Harbor Port. That was where he worked, with his half brothers, Beau, who seemed hostile, and Aaron, who seemed cold to everyone, not to mention his father, who had, despite Margo’s resentment of Deacon, apparently brought him into the family business anyway.
“Mind if I join you?” Deacon asked.
Her heart skipped a beat.
He took in her expression. “I won’t if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“No. It’s fine. It’s your hot tub.”
He looked like he wanted to say something, but he clamped his lips together.
“Please,” she said, gesturing to the water. “It’s nice.”
He rose. “I’ll grab a suit.”
She watched him walk away, wishing she could tell him to forget the bathing suit. She’d seen him naked dozens of times. And he’d seen her. And it was silly for them to feign modesty now.
She lowered herself deeper into the water and sipped the brandy, while her mind went on a flight of fancy about making love with Deacon.
He was back before she expected, startling her.
She sat back up, while he climbed into the hot tub with his own glass of brandy. He also set the bottle at the edge.
“Margo mentioned a ball today,” Callie said, latching onto a neutral topic.
“The Summer Solstice?” he asked.
“That sounds right.”
“It’s famous around here, the social event of the year. Everyone wants to be invited to the castle to dance in the grand ballroom.”
“The Clarksons apparently have a tailor. She wants to make matching suits for the boys.”
Deacon blinked at her. He didn’t have to ask the question. They both knew what it was.
The ball was a week away. Would James and Ethan be here to wear their custom-made suits?
“I don’t know,” Callie told him honestly. “I don’t know what to do.”
Deacon might be the source of her problem, but he was also the only person who knew the truth. Everyone else thought their marriage was real.
“You know what I want.” His tone was deep, sincere, like the words had been pulled from his very core.
She couldn’t take her gaze from him. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t move.
When he shifted to the seat next to her, her pulse jumped. The water temperature seemed to inch up several degrees.
“Stay,” he said. “For as long as you want. I’ll give you space.” Even as he made the promise, he seemed to grow closer. His gaze moved to her lips. “I’ll give you—”
And then he was kissing her. And it was magic. It took her breath away. And she kissed him back, the water sloshing between them. His arms went around her. Her body slid against his. Her breasts plastered again his chest.
A crash shattered the night around them.
They jumped apart, and she realized she’d dropped her brandy snifter on the concrete deck.
“I’m sorry.” She couldn’t believe she’d been so careless.
She rose to her knees to look over the edge.
“Don’t move,” he told her, setting his own glass down.
“I’m so stupid,” she said.
“I’ll clean it up.”
“You have bare feet.”
“I’ll get some shoes.”
He turned back to her, wrapping his hands around her shoulders, gazing into her eyes. “I will give you space,” he promised.
“That was my fault, too.” She had to make the admission.
“What do you want?” he asked. “Just tell me what it is, and I’ll do it.”
What she wanted was impossible. She wanted the fantasy that had never been true. She wanted their marriage to be what he’d pretended.
“I don’t think you can,” she whispered.
“Okay,” he gave a nod of acceptance. “Okay. But that doesn’t
mean I won’t stop trying.”
She watched him rise from the water, the droplets sliding off his broad shoulders, the arms that held her so tightly, his abs, his thighs, everything she’d kissed and touched as they’d made love so many times.
How could he try? What could he possibly do?
There was no way to go back and turn his lies into the truth.
Nine
Deacon dug in and worked hard to learn about Hale Harbor Port. Callie didn’t know that his interest in the company was tied to her. She assumed he’d been working there for years, and he hadn’t corrected her. So he was on eggshells, thinking she might ask a question he couldn’t answer.
Aaron and Beau sure hadn’t made the learning curve easy. They wouldn’t answer a single question, and Deacon was convinced they were actively turning staff members against him.
But he’d persisted. He’d poured over their billing, accounts payable and receivable, their terminal schedules, traffic volume, even cargo manifests. After hours and hours of work, he’d come to a simple but startling conclusion. Hale Harbor Port was losing money.
He presented his findings to Tyrell, Aaron and Beau at the boardroom table in the castle’s business wing.
Tyrell showed little reaction. “We’re aware of it,” he said.
“It can’t continue.” Deacon didn’t have to fully understand the port business to know that much.
“It’s won’t continue,” Beau said. “It’s a temporary slump.”
“You have to revise your pricing structure.” Deacon didn’t buy that it was a temporary slump. He knew from his work at Mobi that the transportation sector had fundamentally changed over the past decade. Everyone had to look at new approaches.
“And price ourselves out of the market?” Beau asked. “It’s competitive out there.”
“That’s obviously not what I meant,” Deacon countered.
“What do you mean?” Aaron asked.
Beau turned on his brother. “You’re going to take him seriously? He’s been here all of five minutes, and you’re ready to take his advice.”
“Nobody’s taking his advice,” Tyrell said.
Deacon rocked back in his chair. “Sure. Ignore me. Stick your head in the sand and—” As he spoke, he caught a glimpse of movement through the boardroom window.
He could see all the way across the courtyard, through a window into another part of the castle. It looked like... It was. Callie was in the next wing. He leaned forward for a better view.
“We should at least monitor it,” Aaron said.
“We are monitoring it,” Tyrell said.
Then Deacon spotted James. He looked disproportionately tall, and Deacon realized he was standing on something. He raised his arms, holding them out to his sides.
“We do have accountants,” Beau drawled.
A man approached James, reaching across his outstretched arms. Deacon all but cheered. The man was the tailor. The boys were being measured for suits. They were staying for the ball. Callie was staying for the ball.
A wave of relief passed through Deacon.
“Is that funny?” Tyrell asked.
Deacon refocused his attention. “What?”
“Is it funny that we have accountants?”
“Of course not.” Deacon stole one more glance across the courtyard.
James and Ethan were going to look terrific in little tuxedos. Deacon was buying one for himself. He didn’t think a tuxedo would come anywhere near to changing Callie’s mind about him. But it couldn’t hurt either.
“We’re not making a major decision today,” Tyrell said.
“I’m only suggesting we gather more data,” Deacon said, refocusing. “We should look at options.”
“What kind of options?” Aaron asked.
“Will you stop humoring him,” Beau demanded.
“Vertical integration,” Deacon said.
Beau threw up his hands in frustration, but Aaron looked interested.
“Again,” Beau said. “He’s been here five minutes.”
“I’ve been alive longer than that,” Deacon said evenly. “I’ve been in the transportation industry for years. There’s money there. Global supply chains are growing, trade agreements are popping up all over the world. At the retail level, bricks and motor are out, delivery is in. Hale Harbor could be at the nexus of a game-changer.”
“Vertical integration.” Aaron’s head tilted thoughtfully.
“We’ve operated steady as she goes for hundreds of years,” Tyrell said.
“Exclusive agreements,” Deacon said to Aaron. “With a firm like Mobi Transport.”
“There it is,” said Beau. “He wants to use Hale Harbor Port to beef up Mobi.”
“It was only an example,” Deacon said. “And I meant the other way around, use a company like Mobi Transportation to beef up Hale Harbor Port.”
“How?” Aaron asked.
“I’ve had enough of this.” Beau came to his feet.
“We have other business on the agenda,” Tyrell said. “But let’s break for lunch.” He also came to his feet.
Deacon allowed himself another glance across the courtyard, seeing Callie in profile. She was talking to Margo, and the two were watching the tailor try to wrangle Ethan.
Beau and Tyrell left the room, but Aaron stayed seated. He tapped a pen on his leather folder. “How?” he repeated to Deacon.
“Does it matter?” Deacon asked. He knew Aaron was as hostile toward him as Beau. Aaron simply hid it better.
“Do you have a good idea or not?”
Deacon figured he had nothing to lose. “Buy or take an equity position in Mobi, or in another company along the chain, like a maritime shipping company. Mobi is nice because it’s local, it’s small. So a good place to start and test the methodology. Give them preferential pricing, so they use Hale Harbor exclusively.”
“Lower prices? Lose more money?”
“Increase volume, streamline processes, make the port itself revenue neutral, then get profitable through the subsidiary businesses.”
“Do you have any idea what you’re talking about?”
“I’m only saying it’s worth exploring.”
“The magnitude of that change is ridiculous.”
“You got a better idea?”
Aaron came to his feet. “Not yet. But there has to be a dozen better ideas than that. Beau’s right. You’ve been here five minutes.”
Squelching his disappointment, Deacon let his gaze rest on Callie. He might have lost this round with Tyrell and the boys, but Callie was staying, at least for another week. It was a win for him on that front.
“The slump could be temporary,” Aaron said.
“Maybe.” Deacon didn’t think so.
Aaron started for the door. “It always has been in the past.”
“This isn’t the past,” Deacon tossed over his shoulder.
Given the choice between lunch and seeing Callie, he was taking Callie.
He left the boardroom and made his way along the second-floor hallway. The castle was big and rambling, with circuitous hallways, dead ends, multistory grand halls and winding stairways. He had to go up to the third floor and make his way along an open loft hallway, then come down to traverse a kitchen, drawing curious looks from a couple of staff members.
But he finally made it to the other side of the courtyard. He found the second floor and heard the boys’ voices.
They were in a dressing room of some kind, though it was the size of a dance hall. He wondered if Margo had all her clothes custom made and if Tyrell and their sons did, as well.
“Daddy,” Ethan cried, jumping down from the stool to the obvious chagrin of the tailor.
“What’s going on here?” Deacon asked cheerfully as Ethan trotted toward him.
“We’re getting new clothes,” James answered, heading for Deacon.
“Special, special clothes,” Ethan spun around.
Deacon caught Callie’s gaze. “You’re going to the ball.”
Ethan made a throwing motion with his hand.
“There will be dessert,” James said.
“You know I like dessert,” Deacon said, ruffling Ethan’s hair.
Margo kept her attention on the tailor, doing her best to pretend Deacon wasn’t there. He wondered how long she planned to keep giving him the cold shoulder. He wasn’t going away.
He crossed the room to Callie. “You made a decision?” he asked her on an undertone.
“Time for lunch,” Margo said brightly to the boys. “Who wants grilled cheese?”
“Me, me,” Ethan said.
“Yes, please,” James said.
“Let’s go find Dee.” Margo hustled the boys out, while the tailor retreated to a table at the far end of the room.
“I should go,” Callie said, watching the doorway where her sons had left.
“I’m glad you’re staying,” Deacon said.
“Don’t make any assumptions.”
“I’m not.”
“It’s not for you.”
“I know.” He wished it was, but he acknowledged full well it wasn’t.
“Margo is... She’s really grown attached to the boys.”
Deacon hadn’t seen himself ever being grateful to Margo. But he was now. In this moment, he silently thanked her for her doting ways. It bought him some time.
He didn’t know what he was going to do with that time. He had absolutely no plan. But it was better than the alternative.
* * *
As she tucked the boys into bed, Callie hoped she was doing the right thing by staying for the ball. It was a form of torture being around Deacon, wanting him, missing him, trying desperately to stay angry with him.
“Mommy,” James said as she smoothed the covers around him.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Is Grandma very smart?”
“I think so. She seems pretty smart.”
“Okay.”
“Why do you ask?”
“She says a red tie will make me shine.”
The Illegitimate Billionaire (Whiskey Bay Brides Book 4; Billionaire & Babies) Page 14
