“About time you got here,” Warren Barton suddenly bellowed. “I expected you two hours ago. We’ve been holding luncheon, but who knows what it will taste like now.”
Joshua stopped dead in his tracks. “Hello, Father,” he said coolly. “Sorry about lunch. We’ve already eaten. And if I remember correctly, I told you we’d arrive sometime before three. Since it’s only two-ten, we’re technically early.”
Warren Barton huffed his reply. Eleanor watched Rosemary reach over and give her husband’s hand a reassuring pat. The older man answered his wife’s gesture of comfort by squeezing her hand. Then he stiffened his spine and glared down at his son.
Their eyes clashed. Neither man moved, nor blinked. Their expressions held such an identical look of stubbornness it might have been comical, if it weren’t so tense and uncomfortable. It reminded Eleanor of a wildlife program she had seen last month on her favorite cable station. Two bull elks, squaring off for territorial rights. Any minute now she expected Joshua and his father to hunch their shoulders and start banging their heads together.
Eleanor glanced at Rosemary and saw the same feeling of helplessness she was experiencing reflected in the other woman’s eyes. Both women understood this was not their battle. They could only wait and silently witness the struggle between father and son.
Just when she thought her wobbly knees were going to give out, Joshua took a small step forward. Eleanor latched onto his arm. She felt the immediate tension that rippled through him, but was determined to keep him moving at all costs, figuring if this unexpected stress didn’t get to her she would probably die of sunstroke out here in the blazing June heat.
Joshua’s arm felt stiff beneath her fingers, but he gave no outward sign of emotion. She tried to imitate his unemotional mask—after all, these two people were strangers to her—but it was difficult. She had no experience with family members who treated each other so coldly and formally. Eleanor felt like she was walking through a minefield. Just one wrong step and everything was going to explode.
After what seemed like an eternity they reached the veranda. Joshua took two steps up, but halted on the third. Warren Barton blinked at his son and his lips curved upward in a ghost of a smile.
“It’s nice to see you, Joshua,” Warren said, advancing toward them. The two men shook hands briefly. Neither seemed comfortable with the physical contact.
“This is Eleanor,” Joshua said simply by way of introduction.
Eleanor smiled tentatively and held out her hand. “Hello, Mr. Barton. It’s very nice to meet you.”
“Welcome, Eleanor. Please, call me Warren. I’m glad you were able to join us this weekend.” Warren turned and gestured toward the woman standing at the threshold. “I’d like you both to meet my wife, Rosemary.”
The older woman smiled fleetingly and came forward. Eleanor deliberately thrust her free hand behind her back, forcing Joshua to greet his new stepmother first.
“I’m delighted to finally meet you, Joshua,” Rosemary said sincerely. “Warren has told me so much about you.”
“Hello, Rosemary,” he replied somberly as he shook her hand.
Rosemary looked startled for a second. She made a slight move forward and Eleanor could have sworn she intended to hug Joshua, but one glance at his stony expression must have effectively squashed that impulse.
Eleanor’s mouth tightened. She had seen warmer greetings at an IRS audit. Determined to do something, anything, to shatter the impossible tension, Eleanor followed her instincts.
“I’m thrilled to meet you, Rosemary,” she said enthusiastically as she embraced the older woman in a quick, friendly hug.
After a slight hesitation, Rosemary quickly recovered and hugged Eleanor in return. When the two women separated, Eleanor swore some of the uncertainty in Rosemary’s eyes had been replaced by a spark of hope.
With the introductions over, a heavy, awkward silence descended. Eleanor could feel a small trickle of sweat roll down the center of her back. She, who was seldom at a loss for words, struggled to find her voice. What an odd family! Stiff, formal, outwardly polite, inwardly hostile. It was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable watching this strained interaction between them.
“Well, there’s no need to be standing outside in all this heat,” Rosemary finally said. “Why don’t we all go in and have a drink? I know you’ve already eaten lunch, but I’m sure you’re thirsty.”
“A cold drink sounds wonderful,” Eleanor replied. “A tall glass of iced tea or lemonade would really hit the spot right now.” She didn’t dare look over at Joshua, knowing she should have waited for him to respond. After all, this was his home, his family. But frankly she was too terrified of what he might say.
“I’ll call Robert to bring in your luggage,” Warren declared.
“No need for that,” Joshua insisted, walking back to the car. “There aren’t many bags. I can manage.”
Warren’s eyebrow shot up. “Remarkable. Leave it to my son to find the only woman in the Northern Hemisphere who travels light. Looks like your luck with girlfriends has finally changed, my boy. For the better.”
The older Barton gave Eleanor a quirky smile. She swallowed hard and turned to Joshua for support. His girlfriend? Not in this lifetime. Yet her palms grew damp and a restless wildness rose inside her as she waited for Joshua to correct his father’s outrageous mistake.
But Joshua wasn’t paying any attention to her. His father had followed him down to the car and now stood with outstretched hands, offering assistance with the luggage. After a slight hesitation, Joshua handed off one of the bags.
“Wow, this is heavy,” Warren exclaimed. “What do you have in here? Rocks?”
Joshua laughed. “No rocks, just books. Eleanor is a big fan of Rosemary’s.”
“Really?” This time Warren’s smile was warm and genuine. “It’s nice to meet a woman with such good sense. Better not let this one get away, son.”
Everything inside her went still. Surely now Joshua would correct his father.
Instead he grinned broadly at her. A dimple formed on his cheek and she forgot entirely what she had been thinking.
The men joined the women on the porch and they entered the house with Rosemary leading the way. Eleanor tried not to openly gape at the opulent surroundings as they walked into the formal living room, but it wasn’t easy: a sweeping ocean view, soaring twelve-foot ceilings with detailed, molded plasterwork, priceless antiques, museum-quality artwork, heavy, expensive carpets over shining hardwood floors, numerous bunches of fresh flowers arranged in silver or crystal or porcelain vases.
The sunlight poured through the long French windows, reflecting off the rich wood accent pieces, giving an inviting glow to the peach and soft green fabric designs on the cushions, rugs, and spare window treatments.
“What a lovely room!” Eleanor exclaimed.
“I just finished the redecorating this week. I wanted everything ready in time for the party.” Rosemary twisted her hands and glanced anxiously at Joshua. When he didn’t say anything, she wandered across the room, straightening a pillow on the love seat, then brushing a speck of dust off the edge of an exquisite Pembroke table. “I hope you like it. I know you don’t get down here often, Joshua, but this is still your home.”
“Very nice,” Joshua muttered, but his set face gave away none of his inner feelings.
Eleanor bit her lip. Once again the undercurrent of tension reigned supreme.
“It’s a beautiful room,” Warren boomed out. “You did a superb job, Rosemary. Didn’t she, Josh?”
“Superb,” Joshua repeated stonily.
They were saved from the strain of trying to make further conversation by the arrival of an older woman carrying a silver tray of drinks. Judging by the warm greeting Joshua gave her, Eleanor assumed the woman, Martha, had worked for the family for many years.
Martha blushed and protested, then grinned proudly when Joshua took the heavy tray from her and carried it the rest of the w
ay to the sideboard.
Although both lemonade and iced tea had been brought as Eleanor had requested, she recklessly decided to join everyone else and have a vodka tonic. If the first half hour was any indication as to how the rest of the visit was going to be, Eleanor suspected she was going to need something a whole lot stronger than iced tea.
Everyone settled awkwardly on the beautiful furniture and gave their complete attention to their drinks. The moments of strained silence steadily ticked away. Eleanor searched her mind frantically for a neutral topic of conversation to introduce but was unable to come up with anything.
Well aware that with this crew any topic posed the threat of alienation or all-out war, Eleanor prudently decided it might be smarter to keep her mouth shut. She realized she had landed herself in a situation that was way over her head and the only thing she could do was hope that someone else possessed the courage to start a civilized discussion.
“Did you have nice flight down?” Rosemary finally asked, breaking the awkward silence.
“Very pleasant,” Eleanor jumped in quickly. “The flight was very smooth and the plane was so comfortable.”
“Does the company still own that gas-guzzling corporate Learjet I advised you to sell three years ago?” Warren Barton asked his son.
“Yes, it does,” Joshua replied steadily. Although his posture remained relaxed, there was no mistaking the hard, challenging glint in his eyes. “As a matter of fact, I’m seriously thinking about buying a second one so the partners don’t have to share.”
“Waste of money.” Warren snorted with disapproval. He walked over to the bar and freshened his drink. “Didn’t you read that article I sent you about fractional ownership of private aircraft? For a much smaller initial investment, reasonable management fees, and competitive hourly rates you can be guaranteed a jet with as little as four hours’ notice.”
“Our profits have exceeded all predictions for the past three years,” Joshua said forcefully. “The firm can easily justify the cost of owning a second corporate plane.”
“Just because you can afford it, doesn’t mean you should buy it,” Warren insisted. “Didn’t I teach you anything?”
“Oh, I learned plenty from you.” Joshua rose from the couch. “Warren Barton, the famously frugal millionaire.”
“Now, what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It’s a compliment, Father.” Joshua sighed heavily. “Without fail, I hear it at every board meeting.”
Eleanor saw Warren cast his son a puzzled look. Joshua squared his shoulders and lifted his head. “It’s been a very long day. If you’ll excuse us, Eleanor and I would like to relax before dinner.”
“Of course.” Rosemary jumped up from her chair like a scalded cat. “How rude of us not to realize how tired you might be. Traveling can be so draining.”
“It would be nice to freshen up.” Eleanor struggled to summon up a reassuring smile, knowing it was hardly a secret that it wasn’t the traveling that was so exhausting. “We’ll see you at dinner, seven-thirty in the dining room,” Warren said in a tired voice. “Maybe you’ll have time for a walk on the beach or a swim in the pool before we eat. I remember when you were a youngster we could never keep you out of the pool.”
Warren Barton’s wistful gaze strayed to his son, but Joshua didn’t notice. There was something so sad and troubled lurking in the depths of those eyes that Eleanor immediately forgave the older man’s belligerent attitude toward his child.
“I’ve had Martha prepare your usual room, Joshua. And Eleanor is in the blue room,” Rosemary said. “I hope that is all right.”
“That’s fine.” Joshua held up his hand. “Please, don’t trouble yourself. I know the way.”
On cue Eleanor rose from her seat while Rosemary sat back on the sofa. Joshua grabbed Eleanor’s arm and steered her through the wide, arched doorway. She barely had time to cast an apologetic smile at her hosts as she was whisked away.
The older servant, Martha, joined them as they climbed the enormous grand staircase to the third floor. Their luggage was nowhere in sight. Someone, perhaps Martha or the aforementioned Robert, had apparently delivered it to their rooms, confirming Eleanor’s initial impression that this place was more like a four-star hotel and less like a real home.
“I know you haven’t eaten since we left Philadelphia,” Joshua said when they reached the third-floor landing. “You must be starved. Would you like me to have a tray sent up from the kitchen?”
“No thanks. I’ll just wait until dinner.”
Eleanor was surprised to realize that her early hunger had indeed vanished. Amazing. After years of searching she had finally discovered the perfect diet. If this sniping between Joshua and his father kept up for the next four days she would never be able to swallow anything past the lump of tension firmly lodged in her throat. For once it would be very simple to lose some weight.
“I’ll come to your room at seven-twenty so I can escort you down to dinner.”
The sound of Joshua’s deep, male voice startled her. She had been so caught up in her jumbled thoughts and feelings she was paying little attention to her surroundings. Eleanor lifted her head to reply, but Joshua was already gone. Only the smiling Martha remained.
The servant held open a heavy wood door and respectfully stepped aside. Feeling more than a little uncomfortable, Eleanor entered the room. Martha quickly followed. She crossed to the windows and pulled back the heavy drapes. Bright sunlight filled the large room.
Martha started moving around the room, showing her the closets, the television and CD player cleverly hidden inside an antique armoire, how to switch on the various ceiling fans, how to adjust the room temperature, how to call down to the kitchen if she wanted something.
“The room is very pretty,” Eleanor muttered, not sure what else to say. “I’m sure I’ll be very comfortable. Thank you, Martha.”
After extracting a promise from Eleanor to ring immediately if she needed anything, Martha left.
The moment the door closed behind her, some of Eleanor’s tension eased. She flopped onto the enormous four-poster bed and wondered if it would be possible to hide out in this enchanting room for the rest of the visit. She had a lovely, comfortable room, a suitcase full of books, a marvelous view of the ocean, a kitchen at her disposal probably twenty-four hours a day. What else could she possibly need?
Well, maybe a bathroom. Eleanor rolled onto her stomach and glanced around her spacious quarters. There were several doors. Martha had opened most of them during her tour, but Eleanor had felt too uncomfortable to pay close attention. Dimly she remembered a glimpse of pale yellow tile and an old-fashioned bathtub with claw feet that looked big enough to swim laps in.
Curious, she walked to the far side of the room and pulled open a door. Closet. With all her clothes already unpacked and hanging neatly inside. Flushing, Eleanor opened a second door. Another closet. Spare blankets, extra pillows, even a woman’s bathrobe.
Eleanor smiled. Heck, this was even better than a four-star hotel. Getting into the spirit, she contemplated the remaining two doors.
“Hmmm, let’s see.” She tapped her index finger impatiently against the side of her cheek and then lunged for the door of her choice. Gleefully she yanked it open.
And discovered a half-naked Joshua Barton on the other side.
Eleanor’s hand dropped away from the door handle. A shiver ran down her spine, but she stood very still, not daring to move. He was in the process of getting dressed and hadn’t noticed her invasion. Perhaps if she backed away very slowly, very quietly, she could leave before he even detected her presence.
She tried putting one foot behind the other. Honestly. But movement suddenly became impossible as every ounce of her attention became riveted on the man in front of her.
He had changed into a pair of cut-off jean shorts and was shrugging on a well-worn light blue oxford shirt. His hair was tousled, his feet bare, and a fair part of his naked chest was in plain
view. Eleanor’s heart started thudding. She told herself sternly it was the shock of discovering him on the other side of her bedroom door.
It was not, she insisted, the fact that he looked so outrageously handsome in such a disheveled state or the realization that they were going to share connecting rooms for three nights.
He turned away and bent at the waist, probably to pick up his shoes. The seat of his shorts tightened over his rump. It wasn’t fair. Even the man’s butt was beautiful.
The world began to shift around her. At a loss for words, feeling more and more like a voyeur, Eleanor finally cleared her throat. Loudly.
Joshua whirled around. His eyes flew to her face, and Eleanor was jolted by the impact of his sexy, assessing gaze.
“Hi.” Eleanor took a deep breath and worked hard to swallow. Determinedly she kept her eyes above his waist. He had rolled up his shirtsleeves, and her gaze lingered there. His forearms were strong and solid and tanned, with a light dusting of dark hair.
“Eleanor? Are you all right?”
“What?”
“You’re just standing there. Staring.” He rested his hands on his hips. The shirt gaped open, revealing more of his chest. “Is something wrong?”
She could feel herself blushing. Well, of course she was staring. He was the most physically perfect male on the planet. And he was waiting for her to answer him.
“Our rooms connect.” It was a totally obvious statement, but the best she could come up with at the moment.
Joshua straightened and his eyes locked with hers. “Connecting rooms is about as far as my father’s Victorian sensibilities will go. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind,” Eleanor whispered. The words were barely out of her mouth when she caught her breath. How in the world was she going to get any sleep knowing he was lying so near? “I’m a bit surprised, that’s all. And confused. Apparently your father is under the impression that we’re a couple.”
Joshua sank down on the edge of his bed. “Is that a problem?”
She shook her head, then frowned. “I realize that you and your father have some unresolved . . . issues.”
A Night to Remember Page 7
