He blinked, unable to process this. “So you were sitting there with us at family dinners, week after week, and you never breathed a word to anyone?”
Her head hung slightly, and lines of pain formed around her eyes. “Your father and I were married for a very long time. There was a lot of history there. Maybe too much to throw away for an affair that began so long ago.”
“But that was still continuing, unless I understand wrong.”
He watched his mom’s throat move as she swallowed. “You’re not wrong. Reginald loved Angela.” It took visible effort for her gaze to meet his, and he fought the urge to take her in his arms again. Her rigid posture told him to keep his distance. “He loved me, too.” A wry smile tugged at her lips. “He was a man with a lot of love to give.”
“That’s one way of looking at it, though I’d like the opportunity to give him a piece of my mind.” He realized his hands were clenched into fists, and he released them. “I know you didn’t kill him.” He had to say it, because he had thought it for that split second after she announced a confession, and he needed to clear the air.
“Of course I didn’t, but the police and the courts don’t know that, and I don’t have an alibi for the time of the murder.”
“We need to find out who really did it. Do you have any suspicions?”
She shook her head. “Trust me, if I had even the slightest inkling, I’d tell everyone I know.”
RJ glanced around the grim room. “This place is a nightmare.” He remembered the bag he’d brought with him. “I brought you some books. Flannery O’Connor, William Faulkner. Lily said you’d want something more cheery, but I wasn’t so sure. They put them through the metal detector downstairs. Apparently razor-sharp wit doesn’t show up on the screen.”
She smiled, and peered into the offered paper bag. “RJ, you’re so thoughtful. And you’re right, I feel like reading about experiences darker than my own.” She sighed. “Hopefully I won’t have time to read them all.”
“Not if I can help it.”
“I’ve never flown in a small plane.” Brooke’s hands trembled as she buckled the seat belt in the Kincaid jet. “Couldn’t we drive there?” Her wide green eyes implored him.
A protective instinct surged inside RJ and he took hold of her hand. “It’s almost 150 miles away, near Gatlinburg, Tennessee. We’ll be fine.” Strange to see ever-capable Brooke looking worried. He squeezed her trembling fingers gently to reassure her. “At least we have a professional pilot today. My dad used to fly it himself sometimes and while he claimed military flying experience, I never saw any kind of license.”
“Scary!”
“Tell me about it. I even toyed with getting a license myself so I’d be able to take over in an emergency. One time we got caught in a wind shear coming out of the mountains, but Dad handled it like a pro.” His chest tightened as a wave of sadness swept through him. He still couldn’t believe that he’d never see his dad again. Never hear his chesty laugh or another tall tale about his days in Special Ops.
“You’re not making me feel better.”
“We’ll be fine.” He lifted his arm and placed it around her shoulder. Her soft floral scent filled his nostrils. Soon they’d be alone together in the mountains. The fresh air would lift the cares off both of their shoulders. He couldn’t wait to hear her infectious laugh echo off the wooded hillsides, or see the morning sun sparkle in her lovely eyes. And then there would be the nights… He’d instructed the caretaker to put the best fresh linen on the beds—he planned to offer her one for herself, then tempt her out of it. The prospect of Brooke’s lush body writhing under those sheets made his pulse quicken.
Yes, she was his assistant. Doubts did force their way to the forefront of his consciousness from time to time. Mixing business and pleasure was always risky, and in a family business it could be downright explosive. His father had warned all of them to keep their personal affairs out of the office and RJ had never had an affair with an employee before, despite considerable temptation over the years. Funnily enough he’d never seen Brooke in that way until their whiskey-flavored kiss in his office. She’d been his right-hand woman, his trusted friend, his rock—but their kiss had opened up a new world of possibilities.
Now he knew his assistant was a sensual woman, with passion flickering behind the jade of her eyes and excited breaths quickening in her lovely chest when he looked at her, the temptation was irresistible. He’d never have dreamed anything could take his mind off the hailstorm of disaster raining down on the Kincaid family over the last few months, but when he was with Brooke, all his burdens seemed lighter. It was such a relief to be with someone whom he could totally trust.
He heard Brooke’s breath catch as the plane lifted off the runway, but she soon relaxed as they rose high over the Charleston suburbs, heading toward the sunset and the distant shadow of the mountains. If only they could fly away from all his troubles and worries. Those were hitchhiking along, but with Brooke by his side they’d stay in check.
“How’s your mom doing?” Brooke’s soft question revealed her natural empathy.
“She’s hanging in there. She’s a brave woman and she doesn’t want us to worry. I visited her this afternoon and took her some books she wanted. I told her we’re doing everything we can to get her out. The police have been pretty closemouthed so I hired a private investigator to work full-time on the case, and he’s going to work with Nikki Thomas, our own corporate investigator. The lawyers are still trying to negotiate bail. They keep promising she’ll be released but it gets shot down at the last moment. Apparently someone saw her in the office that night. Hey, are you okay?”
Brooke’s face had turned so pale, even her lips lost color. “Sure, just a little queasy. I’ll be okay.”
He squeezed her hand. It was easy to dismiss your own problems, but you couldn’t always help the ones you cared about. Lately that made him feel powerless, an unfamiliar experience he hated. At least he could show Brooke a glorious and relaxing weekend in the country. She deserved the best of everything and he intended to give it to her.
Brooke gripped his hand tightly during their descent into the airport at Gatlinburg, then exhaled with relief as the plane taxied to a halt.
“See? You survived.”
“Only just. And my nails have probably left permanent scars on your hand.”
“I’ll wear them with pride.”
RJ was pleased to see the caretaker had dropped the familiar black Suburban off at the airport then discreetly disappeared. The first sign that his plans were going smoothly. He’d told the caretaker he didn’t need any staff on hand, as he suspected Brooke might be spooked by the presence of other people. Much better that they enjoy peace and privacy.
A now-familiar pang of grief hit him as he climbed behind the wheel. His dad usually drove, maintaining the familiar patterns of father-and-son even though RJ had been driving for nearly twenty years. “Dad loved it up here. He always said the whole world fell away if you got high enough up into the mountains.”
“It’s beautiful. The light is different here.” That light illuminated Brooke’s hair and her delicate profile as she looked out the window. For a split second he longed to press his lips to hers and lose himself in a kiss. Instead he started the engine.
“Dad wrote me a letter when he made his will.” He frowned. He’d never spoken to anyone else about it. “Said he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d live and he wanted to make sure the lodge would be mine.”
“Oh.” Brooke turned sharply, shock written on her face. “Sounds like he almost knew he was going to die.”
“He never said a word to anyone.” He shook his head. “His lawyers told me he redrew his will every few years, so they didn’t think much of it. He included letters each time. But when he died there was one for everyone in the family…excep
t my mom.”
“Did he leave any hints of who he suspected?”
“That is odd. Nothing I could figure out. He does mention his other family that none of us knew about. Well, except Mom.”
“Your mom knew about his other woman and her children?”
RJ swallowed. “Apparently so. She didn’t say anything to us. She learned about them while he was writing his will. She found a copy in his desk.” It was good to get that awkward truth off his chest. He knew he could trust Brooke not to tell anyone. “She didn’t want any of us to know.”
“Is that why police think she has motive?”
“I suppose they think she wanted revenge.” He heard Brooke’s intake of breath. Did she think it was possible that his mom could wield a gun against her husband of nearly four decades? “You do know she’s innocent.”
“Yes, of course.” The color had fled her cheeks again. “It’s just a shame she had to find out that way.”
Brooke seemed distracted, staring hard out the window, not even noticing the bait and tackle shop and the quaint country inn he’d intended to show her.
“I brought Dad’s letter with me because he mentions something in the lodge.” He paused while a big truck crossed at the intersection ahead. “Something else he wanted me to have.”
“An object?”
“I don’t know. It’s rather mysterious. He said to look in the third drawer down, but he didn’t say what piece of furniture.”
“Hmm. I guess you’ll just have to open every third drawer down in the house, and hope for the best.”
He didn’t mention the other things his dad had said in the letter. For now those were between Reginald Kincaid, Sr., and his namesake, and maybe it was better that no one else knew about them.
Brooke was lost for words when they pulled up at the lodge. Then again, what had she expected, a shack with an outside toilet? This was a Kincaid residence. The vast log home rose up out of the surrounding woodlands, high gables braced with chiseled beams and walls of windows reflecting the sunset. RJ strode up the steps and unlocked the impressive double doors, then ushered her inside.
Golden sunlight illuminated the foyer from all directions. RJ put down their bags then walked through a door in the far wall. “Dad named it Great Oak Lodge. Come see why we built the house here.”
Brooke followed him into another grand room, decorated in an updated, minimalist interpretation of hunting-lodge chic: pale sofas with muted plaid accents, a painting of a stag and an impressive stone fireplace. The last rays of sunlight blazing in through a wall of windows largely obscured the view, until RJ opened a pair of patio doors and she saw an endless vista of tree-cloaked hills.
She walked out and stood beside him. There were no signs of civilization at all, just peaks and valleys filled with more trees. “It feels like we’re on top of the world.”
“Maybe we are.” He stepped behind her and slid his arms around her waist. Her belly shimmered with arousal. They hadn’t kissed since their date two nights ago, and on the plane she’d been too nervous to think much about kissing. Or any of the things that might follow.
RJ bent his head and pressed his lips to her neck. “You smell sensational.” Excitement trickled through her, peppered with anxiety about where this was all going. Now his hot breath warmed her ear, making her shiver with anticipation.
“Shouldn’t we put our bags away?” She could hardly believe that was her voice interrupting the sensual moment.
RJ chuckled. “Trying to delay the inevitable?”
“Just being practical. That’s why you hired me.” Ouch. Why did she have to remind him—and herself—that she was his employee?
“Let’s leave the office at the office.” RJ still held her tight in his embrace, and his mouth had moved barely an inch from her skin. “Do you think any of those trees care about memos and meetings and deadlines? It’s a whole different world up here. Breathe in some fresh mountain air.”
“I think I am.” Surely if she wasn’t she’d have passed out by now. Which was a distinct possibility the way RJ was tantalizing her earlobe with his tongue and teeth.
“Mountain air is restorative. Draw it all the way to the bottom of your lungs.”
She drew a breath deep down into her belly the way she’d learned in yoga class. Evening cool, scented with pine and fresh soil, the rich air filled her lungs, and she exhaled with gusto. “That does feel good.”
“Standing up here restores perspective. Out here it seems like time doesn’t exist—the sun rises and sets and everything stays the same except the slow change of the seasons.”
“RJ, you’re turning out to have more dimensions than I expected.”
“And you’ve known me five years already. Just shows how important it is to step out of context. Now kiss me.”
Before she could protest he spun her around and pressed his lips firmly to hers. Her eyes slid shut and her hands rose to his shoulders. The kiss was delicious, golden and heady as the sunset warming their skin. The slight stubble on RJ’s chin tickled her and she felt his eyelashes flutter against her cheeks as he deepened the kiss.
She hugged him, enjoying the closeness she’d craved, letting go of her worries and losing herself in the powerful sensation of his strong arms around her waist, holding her tight.
When they finally pulled apart, by only a feather’s depth, his eyes sparkled and she knew hers did, too. Happiness swelled in her chest and the moment felt so perfect.
“You’re a very beautiful woman, Brooke. The sunset suits you.”
“Maybe I should wear it every day.”
“Most definitely. And I have a feeling that sunrise will become you, as well.”
“I guess we’ll have to get up early and find out.” A tiny blade of anxiety poked her stomach. By morning they would have slept together.
Or would they?
After they disentangled themselves from each other’s arms, RJ took her to a bedroom with panoramic views and invited her to unpack. Then he disappeared. Maybe they weren’t going to sleep together at all. The closet was empty, except for a few hangers and a plain white terry bathrobe. The room had an adjoining bath, with freshly unwrapped soap and tiny bottles of expensive Kiehl’s shampoo and conditioner. The rustic yet elegant bentwood bed was covered with a thick, soft duvet and the whole room was decorated in neutral colors that complemented the jaw-dropping view out the window. It was like being in a very high-end hotel.
Brooke hung her few items in the cavernous closet, then changed out of her work suit into her favorite jeans and a green shirt that highlighted her eyes. The carpets were soft pure wool, so she left her feet bare to better enjoy them and show off her rather daring jade-green toenails.
She peered out into the hallway. She followed the sound of whistling and found RJ in a similarly spacious bedroom, with a large bed made of rustic planks, checking his phone. “Settled in?”
“Perfectly.” There was his bag, half-unpacked, on top of a pine chest of drawers. So they were sleeping in separate bedrooms. She should be relieved, but instead she felt disappointed. Maybe she was hoping for a whirlwind romance and he just planned to cast some flies and kick back in the sunshine.
“I’ve never seen you in jeans before.” His eyes roamed down her legs, heating her skin through the denim. “Clearly, I’ve been missing out.”
“I’ve never seen you in jeans before, either.” She smiled, glancing at the pair peeking out of his duffel bag.
“Mine don’t hug me quite the way yours do.” A dimple played in his cheek.
“Shame.” A sudden vision of RJ’s body flashed in her mind. Even in his suit—the jacket hung over a corner of the wardrobe door and his sleeves were rolled up—you could see he was built and muscular. He played a lot of tennis and squash and sailed compe
titively. No doubt his muscles were bronzed by all that time in the sun. Hopefully soon she’d get to compare her imagination to reality.
If that was really a good idea.
“Are you hungry?” RJ’s expression suggested he wanted for something entirely different than food.
“I am. All that shaking with terror on the flight built up an appetite.”
“Good, because I’m making dinner.”
Her eyes widened. RJ Kincaid in front of a stove?
“Don’t look so shocked. You should know by now that I’m a man of many talents.”
“I’m impressed.”
“One of my talents is delegating to skilled professionals.” He strode out of the room, leaving his phone on the bed. “Frankie Deleon owns the best restaurant in town and this afternoon I had the fridge stocked with provisions.” She followed him into a bright kitchen with gleaming professional quality appliances. He pulled open one door on the fridge. The inside revealed a collection of smart earthenware dishes, each labeled with a Post-it note. “Let’s see, jambalaya, baby back ribs, black-eyed peas and greens—hey, those need actual cooking. Poached salmon, sesame noodles.” He moved a dish aside to reach behind it. “Macaroni and cheese, rice salad, green salad, beet and goat cheese salad… Where do you want to start?”
Brooke’s mouth was already watering. She could get used to this Kincaid lifestyle. “It all sounds sensational. What are you in the mood for?”
His blue gaze settled on her face and she read her answer loud and clear. A smile crept across her mouth as her nipples tightened under her green shirt.
“You decide.”
A challenge. She knew RJ liked people who could think on their feet and make executive decisions. “Ribs with sesame noodles and green salad.”
“I like.” RJ pulled the containers from the shelves and placed them on a butcher-block island large enough to have its own sink. Brooke turned on one of the stainless steel ovens, and RJ pulled some fine china dishes from one of the cabinets. They picked a chilled white wine to sip while waiting for the ribs to bake.
Behind Boardroom Doors Page 5
