Robin Kaye Bundle

by Robin Kaye

  He knew she’d spoken to him on the phone? Becca looked at her watch, it would take forty-five minutes to get there, and she needed to change. What did one wear to meet her long lost brother?

  Becca threw riding tights, boots, a T-shirt, and a hard hat into a duffel bag. It had been a long time since she’d been home; she wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to ride Big Red. Maybe after a swim in the pool, she’d ride down to the pond and see how everyone was doing.

  She chose her clothes wisely—a bikini, matching shorts, and a top. Of course, the top wasn’t quite long enough to cover the tat or the belly-button ring. Daddy would likely have a coronary, but not in front of the new heir. Hmm. That might actually be fun.

  Mike followed Larsen west on the main drag, which ran parallel to the train tracks, hence the name, the Main Line. They turned onto a side street and drove through horse country. Houses the likes of which he’d only seen in the Hamptons dotted the countryside. Old stone mansions with matching stone barns that were bigger than his apartment building.

  He’d entered an alternate universe. Mike left Coney Island and his home with its perpetual scent of kraut and sausage, and came here to a land where people were actually named Biff and Bitsy. Where men wear Lilly Pulitzer pants and paid big bucks to look like one of the kids in The Sound of Music, running around in clothes made of old curtains—and not for the laughs either. This alone was proof positive that money wasn’t indicative of brains or taste.

  Larsen signaled a turn, drove through the opening in a stone fence, past what looked like an old-fashioned gatehouse. Mike wondered where Larsen’s house was. Right now, all he saw was a big stone barn, which was even larger than the others he’d seen along the way. He followed Larsen’s BMW closely through the gate, looking for a street sign. There was none.

  About a mile down the road, they passed several houses, greenhouses, and a lake. Up ahead looked like a country club. It was a massive old mansion, beautifully kept. Mike pulled in to the circular drive and parked behind Larsen’s car. When his father jumped out, Mike followed suit. “I thought we were going to your house.”

  Larsen turned and gestured to the mansion. “This is the house. The estate is on three hundred eighty-seven acres. There are seven cottages, three stables, three industrial-size greenhouses, a pool, tennis courts, a stocked pond, and a live trout stream. I can give you a tour later if you’d like.”

  “This”—Mike pointed to the four-story mansion—“is your house?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve always known where you lived, and Mum said you were from a wealthy family, but I never imagined anything like this.”

  “Your mother told you about me?”

  “She wanted me to know where you were in case I ever needed or wanted to contact you.” Mike shrugged and dropped that subject.

  “Well.” Larsen cleared his throat. “Shall we go in?”

  Mike nodded and walked beside Larsen up the steps to the front door. It was a massive hand-carved door with a huge knocker, and it opened before Larsen even reached for the doorknob.

  A woman of indeterminate age welcomed them. She smiled as they stepped into the cool foyer, and after getting a look at Mike, she paled.

  Larsen took her arm to steady her. “Elaine, this is Dr. Michael Flynn, my son.”

  “Mike, Elaine Rogers runs the household. She’s in charge of everyone and everything on the estate, including me.”

  Elaine gathered her bearings quickly. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too.” Mike shook her hand and tried to get a handle on the fact that he’d been introduced as Larsen’s son. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but from the look on the woman’s face—the same look he remembered Annabelle wearing the first time they’d met—he figured it was unavoidable.

  She looked from Mike to Larsen. “Madge has lunch waiting for you in the family dining room.”

  “Thank you.” Larsen put his hand on Mike’s shoulder. “I called and invited Rebecca to join us. I thought you’d enjoy meeting her. The girl never answers her phone so I don’t know if she got the message or not.”

  Mike took in the huge foyer. The rose-colored marble covered the floor and a grand, curved staircase. Still digesting it all, he looked at his watch. “I’m going to have to leave in a couple of hours. I’m on call tonight.” He was really looking forward to working. At least there, he’d be so busy, he wouldn’t have time to think about Larsen, Becca, or Annabelle and Chip.

  A topless, candy-apple red BMW Roadster squealed to a stop before they closed the front door. Mike looked from the driver, with her wind-whipped blonde hair, wide smile, and challenging raised eyebrow to Larsen, who looked as if he’d been out in the sun too long.

  Tension anyone?

  At that point, introductions were unnecessary. Mike recognized his sister from a picture Annabelle kept on her dresser of Becca and her together.

  Becca grabbed a hold of the top of the windscreen, stood, and jumped from the car. She certainly knew how to make an entrance. No wonder Annabelle loved her so much. Mike tried to smile as the pain slammed into him again. He’d caught himself reaching for the phone a hundred times since he’d walked out her door. Sharing things with Annabelle had become second nature, along with sleeping with her, thinking about her, worrying about her, and loving her. He wanted to ask Becca if she’d heard from Annabelle, but they hadn’t even been introduced yet.

  “Mike,” Larsen said. “This is Becca, my daughter.”

  What do you do when you meet your sister for the first time? Shake hands? “Hello.”

  Becca stood in front of him, wearing board shorts low on her hips, a tank top, the hem of which missed the waistband of her shorts by about four inches, and flip-flops. She was tall, lanky, and beautiful. She stared at him with green eyes shot with gold, a bit of copper, and a whole lot of curiosity. She had some amazing eyes, and right now, they were taking his measure.

  “I’m not sure whether to say welcome to the family or tell you to run like hell.”

  “Rebecca, that’s enough.”

  “I get the feeling that both are equally heartfelt.”

  “Annabelle said I’d like you. So, how are you feeling today?”

  He couldn’t help but stare. He’d seen almost the same eyes on Chip’s painting, but Mike remembered that Chip had one eye that was half green and half brown.

  “I’ll survive. Have you talked to Annabelle?”

  Larsen’s face turned even redder. Mike wondered if he had blood pressure problems.

  The old man swallowed hard. “I thought you were no longer seeing that…”

  “Watch yourself, Daddy. You wouldn’t want Mike here to know how badly you treated the woman he loves.”

  “I’m just worried about her. I need to know she’s all right.”

  “What do you think she’s going to do, Mike? Jump off the Brooklyn Bridge? If that’s all you’re worried about, don’t bother. She’s been through tougher things than having her heart broken by you. This is a walk in the park compared to watching the only other man she ever loved die.”

  Larsen butted in. “She was after Chip’s money. Just like she’s after Mike’s.”

  Mike laughed. “I don’t have any money.”

  “Yes, you do… or you will. Which is exactly why she got her hooks into you early.”

  “That’s ridiculous. She never mentioned a word about Chip—at least not unless she was drugged.”

  “So, she has a drug problem, too? It’s not surprising.”

  Mike was beginning to really dislike Larsen. “She hurt her ankle and was on prescription painkillers. What is it with you? The only thing Annabelle is guilty of is loving Chip and not me. It’s a textbook case of transference. She probably doesn’t even know she’s doing it.”

  Becca laughed. “I thought you were a pulmonologist. I guess you’re a shrink now, too? You spend a week’s rotation in the psych ward during med school, and all of a sudden you’re D
r. Freud? You wouldn’t know transference if it bit you in the ass.”

  “Yeah, and how the hell do you know?”

  “Rebecca, Chip, that’s enough. Both of you.”

  The old man looked from Becca to Mike. Becca paled and so did Larsen and Elaine. Mike couldn’t believe this was happening again. “I… I have to go.”

  “Mike. I’m sorry. It was a slip of the tongue.”

  “No, I’m sorry. I can’t do this right now. I’ve had a hard couple of days, and I have to get back to work anyway. I need some time.”

  Becca grabbed his arm. “Mike, wait.”

  “No. I need to go.”

  “Not while you’re upset.”

  “Becca, I’ve been upset since yesterday. I’m fine. I’m a doctor, for God’s sake. I can handle it.”

  Becca looked at her father pleadingly.

  Larsen deflated like a balloon a week after the party. “I’m sorry, Mike. But seeing you and Rebecca fighting… just like she and Chip always did… well. I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, so am I.” Mike turned to leave.

  Larsen touched his shoulder, and he stopped. “Michael, drive safely.”

  He nodded, opened the heavy door, and walked out into the sunshine. Becca followed close behind.

  “So, you’re running away again.”

  Mike had had it. He was pissed, and she just pushed the wrong button. “I don’t need you or anyone telling me how to run my life. I’ve done fine without you and your father for thirty-two years. I’ll do fine without you now.”

  Becca smiled, walked right up to him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and hugged him. “I’m still glad I found you. Or that Annabelle found you. Whether you want to admit it or not, you’re my brother, and I love you. Daddy does too, probably more than you could even imagine. After all, you’re the product of the love of his life. You might as well get used to our family. Take your time. I’m not going anywhere, and you know what? Neither is Annabelle. Once you get over your bad self and your wounded ego, you’ll see she loves you, too.”

  Mike’s eyes stung. He wanted to throw her off him, but he couldn’t. Nor could he ignore what she said. He stepped back, and Becca let him go. Larsen and Becca watched him from the steps. He gave them a nod, got in, and drove around the circle going out the same way he’d come in. He raced toward the entrance of the estate, toward freedom. He drove down the driveway, past the gatehouse, through the opening in the stone fence, and off the property, but he didn’t feel any less trapped.

  Chapter 18

  “WHAT TRUCK RAN OVER YOU?”

  Annabelle looked up from the sketch pad she scribbled on and saw Ben’s eyes scrunched up and his lips pressed together. He made himself at home and sat on her desk.

  “I thought you went to the Hamptons with Dr. Mike for the weekend?”

  “I did.”

  “Are you sick?”

  “No.”

  “Am I going to get more than a two-word answer?”

  “Mike and I broke up. Are you happy?”

  “Not if you aren’t. I’m sorry.”

  She felt the tears coming again. “I can’t talk about this.” Shit. She reached for a tissue and tried desperately to stop embarrassing herself.

  “You’re really hung up on him, aren’t you?”

  “Gee, whatever gave you that idea?”

  “You’re drawing him. I figured it must be love to get you to sketch anything but plans for a show.”

  “Oh God! You’re right. I didn’t realize… I was just making dots… and then—”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “About what?”

  “About Mike.”

  “Nothing. What’s there to do? Some things aren’t meant to be. Mike and I are a perfect example.”

  “You sound sure of that.”

  “I am.”

  “There’s nothing he could say to get you back?”

  “He wouldn’t want me back. Even if he did, I can’t see it ever working out. I can’t be what he needs.

  “He might just need you.”

  “No. He doesn’t. He has everything he needs now. I talked to Becca. She told me that his father offered him a job at this great practice—he has money, a family, a fabulous career—everything he’s ever wanted.”

  Ben picked up a paperweight and tossed it from hand to hand. “He doesn’t have everything he ever wanted. From what I saw, he wanted you.”

  “He doesn’t want me now. Besides, even if he did, I would come between him and his family, and I’m not going there. I never want to put myself in that position again.”

  “You’re sure of that?”

  “Positive.”

  “Okay, then. Marry me.”

  Annabelle burst out laughing. By the time she realized Ben wasn’t laughing, she had tears running down her cheeks. “You’re kidding, right? Ben, tell me you’re kidding.”

  His usual smiling face and twinkling eyes were gone. He shook his head. His folded arms and posture didn’t shout levity.

  “You’re serious?”

  Ben didn’t smile, he didn’t frown, he just looked grim.

  Annabelle held up her hand. “Hold on, don’t tell me Mike was right, that you’ve been secretly lusting after me. I mean, I know I don’t have such a great track record with men, but I think I would have noticed if you ever looked at me like—”

  “Mike? Like I want to undress you with my eyes?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t have put it that way, but yeah.”

  “Would you accept my proposal if I told you I find you attractive?”

  “Whoa. You find me attractive? Since when?”

  “Annabelle. You’re a beautiful woman. You know that. I’ve never thought about you in that way. Not seriously, at least.”

  “Then why in the world do you want to marry me?”

  “I don’t. I need to get married. I have one year to settle down and marry, or I’ll lose the only thing in the world I want that I don’t have.”

  “Huh?”

  “My grandfather owns the ranch I grew up on. He wants me to put an end to my single days, settle down, and have children, or he’ll sell the ranch to a ski resort developer.”

  “Why don’t you just buy it yourself? You have money. How hard could it be?”

  “He’s getting old. His health is failing. He says he wants to see me married in his lifetime. If I don’t get married, I don’t get the ranch. It’s the only thing that I have left of my parents. It wouldn’t be a real marriage, just a marriage in name until I can get the ranch. Once he signs it over, we can get an annulment or a divorce, and I promise we’ll have a prenup that will leave you very comfortable.”

  “Ben, I can’t marry you.”

  “Why not? You said yourself you and Mike are over. Your mother would be happy.”

  “Yeah, until the divorce, but—”

  “Look, just think about it. You don’t have to give me an answer right away. I wouldn’t ask you, but I don’t know anyone else I can trust not to get the wrong idea. I don’t want to get married. And I know you don’t want to marry me. It’ll be great—you can move into my place. There’s plenty of room, you’ll have your studio here, and your commute will be a ride on the elevator. I’ll pay for everything. Just think about it.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can. What do you have to lose?”

  She shook her head.

  “Nothing, that’s what. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Hell, take the gallery if you want. I’ll give it to you. Just help me get my home back. Please?”

  He looked so disheartened, so desperate. The guy who could have anything he wanted couldn’t get the only thing he seemed to need. “Fine, I’ll think about it. But I’m not promising anything.”

  Ben tapped her desk and kissed her cheek. “Thanks. I’ll have my lawyer draw up a prenup, and you can take a look at it.”

  “I didn’t say I’d do it.”

  “No, but you said you’d th
ink about it. Seeing the prenup might push you to the altar. Besides, wouldn’t you want to own your own gallery?”

  “If I do this, I’d do it for you, not for the gallery.”

  “Okay, but you treat the gallery as if it’s yours anyway. We might as well make it official.”

  She shrugged. “I’ll think about it. Now, get out of here. I have work to do.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t agreed to anything. I said I’d think about it.”

  “Fine. I’ll get my lawyer on it right away. I’ll have something for you to look at in the next couple of days.”

  “No rush.”

  “I have eleven months to find a bride. I have no other option than to rush.”

  Mike drove home, and for the first time, he drove on autopilot. He became one with the car, he thought of nothing, felt nothing, and in no time, he drove over the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge. He didn’t know how he got there. One moment he was trying to remember how to get back to Lancaster Avenue in Paoli, and the next he heard the familiar sounds of home.

  It made no difference who his father was, or how many millions he had in the bank, Brooklyn was home. He drove to Coney Island since he wasn’t on call until seven o’clock. He just prayed for a busy night. Anything was better than dealing with the disaster his life had become in the last twenty-four hours. God, had it only been yesterday that he’d planned to spend the rest of his life with Annabelle? Yesterday when he was blissfully unaware and looking forward to the future? Now the only thing he looked forward to was the day he wouldn’t think of her every minute of every hour. The day he wouldn’t see the look on her face, the tears streaming down her cheeks as she took a sledgehammer to his life. The day he wouldn’t feel the pain.

  Becca sat beside her father in the Benz. She’d wanted to drive because he was upset, but her father wouldn’t hear of it. She counted herself lucky he’d allowed her to come at all. Of course, she would have followed him if he hadn’t.

  She never took no for an answer, and she wasn’t about to start now. Not when things were really getting interesting. If Becca read her father right, the man was afraid. For the first time in her life, she saw her father as human with real feelings.