by Leanne Banks
“It’s my job to know.”
Her throat closed in panic. “I’m serious, Jackson,” she whispered. “Those women aren’t just counting on my support. They’re counting on me to keep their whereabouts a secret. How did you know?”
“Your trash,” he said.
Lori opened her mouth to scream, but her vocal cords were frozen. She’d thought she’d been shocked before, but she’d never expected this. “My trash,” she finally managed in a voice that sounded weak to her own ears. “My trash,” she repeated. “What were you doing in my trash?”
“Hey, you were going to be the biggest assignment I’ve ever been given. After a few of our discussions in the beginning, I needed to know what I was dealing with. Everyone’s trash tells a story.”
Lori felt violated. She felt so furious, so powerless that she wanted to slap him. “You’re a disgusting person. You call me manipulative and helpless, but you enjoy intimidating me, violating my privacy, and making me feel like crap. You’re disgusting.”
He shrugged. “Fine, call me disgusting. I call it survival. You forced Tilly into an early retirement. You’re not taking me down, too.”
Lori balled her fists. Oh, how she wanted to slap him. Just once, she thought. Her fingers itched. She lifted her hand slightly and eyed his jaw.
He must have read her intent when his gaze caught sight of her hand and the blood that was in her eyes, because his eyes widened like golf balls. “You really think you’re going to slap me?”
“I want to,” she said. “I want to, but that’s one of the differences between one who’s been raised to behave in a civilized, gentle manner and one who has not.”
“Is there a problem with the dog?” Delilah called from the top of the stairs. “You two look a little intense.”
Lori took a deep breath. “No problem. I was just repeating the instructions to Jackson. I’ll be right with you.” She glanced at Kenny, then at Jackson. “Hurt my dog and you’ll pay in ways you’ve never imagined.”
Jackson ignored her, dipping his head toward Delilah. “Nice meeting you,” he said.
“The pleasure’s mine,” Delilah returned in the same flirty voice she’d used to lay men at her feet for years.
Lori opened the front door and resisted the urge to slam the hard frame into Jackson ’s own buns of steel. Closing it carefully, she counted to ten and prayed that her color would return to normal. She could still feel her pulse pounding in her head.
“I like your taste in employees,” Delilah said, descending the stairs with her toddler on her hip. “He’s got a great body.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Lori muttered.
“Is that so?” Delilah asked, stepping in front of Lori. “Then why do you look like a ripe tomato? I saw him take your hand earlier.”
“It’s not what you think it is, Delilah,” Lori said. “Jackson and I don’t have a romantic relationship. He’s temporary.”
Delilah moved closer and touched Lori’s cheek with sisterly concern. “You could use a temporary diversion.”
Lori shook her head. “Not him. He’s a bit too sexist, controlling, and just-” She couldn’t find the right word.
“Hmm,” Delilah said. “But is he any good in bed?”
Lori groaned. “I remember when you kept hounding Katie to take a lover. Sex doesn’t solve all problems.”
“No, but good sex can sure make problems seem easier,” she said, stroking her daughter Maggie’s hair. “And in my case, I sometimes get a bonus.”
Lori smiled at her little niece. “I can’t disagree with that.” She extended her arms. “Your mom gets you all the time. Come to Auntie Lori for a hug.”
Her niece pitched forward, and Lori caught her small body. Maggie wrapped her arms around Lori’s neck and squeezed. Lori felt her heart swell with affection. “You are the sweetest girl in the world,” she said to her niece. “How many are you going to have?” Lori asked Delilah. “Two out and one on the way. Are you going for an even dozen? If so, may I put in an order for one?”
Delilah shook her head. “I’ll pause at three and stop at four.” She studied Lori. “You should get married so you can start making some of your own.”
Lori fought a quick twist of pain at Delilah’s suggestion. Neither of her sisters knew the true extent of damage Lori had sustained from her accident years ago. Delilah didn’t know Lori may not be able to have children.
Lori flashed a teasing smile at her sister.
“I can’t believe my unconventional sister is telling me to get married.”
“Well, on second thought, Harlan left you so much money, you could raise twelve of your own. You could probably afford to just get pregnant through artificial insemination, but where’s the fun in that?”
Chapter Seven
“The true test of a man’s ardor is if he will go shoe shopping with you on Black Friday.”
– SUNNY COLLINS
Geoffrey Taylor heard the chord in his head. It would lead into the bridge of his current musical creation. He heard the sound of a cat screaming in the background, beyond the closed wooden door of his music room, and he tried to shut it out, narrowing his concentration on the beautiful sounds inside his head.
He stretched his fingers into a chord on the century-old grand piano and played. He frowned. Not quite right. It didn’t quite match-
The wooden door burst open. A plump woman with wet orange hair and a wet red face shrieked at him. “Geoffrey, the loo is broken again! We need to get it fixed! Permanently,” his stepsister, Danielle, added.
Geoffrey frowned. He wanted that note, that chord. If he could just get that one chord, it would be enough for now. Holding up his hand and mentally shutting off his stepsister’s shrieks, he continued on the keyboard. Almost there, almost-
“Geoffrey!” His stepmother’s voice interrupted his concentration.
Geoffrey gave up. His stepmother’s voice was the ultimate mood killer. He looked up at the face that had made his late father tumble like the proverbial Jack from Jack and Jill. Although her youthful glow was dimming and lines were beginning to appear around her eyes and mouth, her skin still looked like a porcelain doll’s, her lips were lush and pink, and her eyes were blue like the summer sky.
Geoffrey knew the truth, however. Behind those innocent-looking blue eyes lurked the instincts of a killer shark with a voracious, unquenchable appetite for designer clothing, jewels, antiques, holidays in Monte Carlo, and generally living beyond her means.
“Geoffrey, look at your sister. This has gone entirely too far. The manor is in total disrepair. Your father never would have permitted the home of generations of Taylors to deteriorate into this kind of condition.”
His father wouldn’t have been permitted to permit it. Charlene would have nagged him twenty-four hours a day, and then his father would have gone into debt to keep his yellow rose from Texas happy. “I’m sorry, Charlene, but as you know, my father may have left his title behind, but he didn’t leave the kind of money you’ve grown accustomed to spending.”
Geoffrey couldn’t recall how many times he’d repeated the same words to Charlene during the last three years.
“Yes, but Gilmore is your responsibility now. You are the heir. Your father trusted you to care for Danielle and me.”
Unlike his father, Geoffrey wasn’t the least bit chauvinistic. As far as Geoffrey was concerned, it was high time Charlene got a job to help support her spending habits. “I’ll remind you that my father was deeply indebted and we almost lost Gilmore because of it. I managed to cover his debts and provide us with a modest income.”
“Selling collectibles on eBay,” Danielle said with a snort. “Why can’t you get a real job instead of spending all your time in here playing your weird music?”
Geoffrey ground his teeth. He was a classically trained musician with special abilities in composing music. He knew that one day he would be paid well for his work. Until then, he needed to continue the discipline of putting down on paper the music that
soared through his mind. He also needed to be frugal.
“Danielle needs to go to college,” Charlene told him. “NYU in Manhattan.”
Geoffrey tensed, feeling a sickening sense of foreboding. “But she hasn’t been accepted, has she?”
“Of course she has,” Charlene said. “I met the wife of the president at one of the parties I attended in New York several years ago. We stayed in touch.”
“Does she have a scholarship?”
“No, but Danielle has worked hard on her studies the past two years. She took her father’s death very hard. Despite that, she’s done well, and her efforts should be rewarded.”
Geoffrey bit the inside of his cheek. “That’s going to be dreadfully expensive. Are you sure there isn’t another-” He cleared his throat. “-more reasonable option?”
Charlene narrowed her eyes to slits. “You have a lot of nerve considering you’ve spent years in the finest schools earning a doctorate that will qualify you to ask the question ‘Would you like fries with that?’”
“I was offered scholarships,” he retorted.
Charlene’s cheeks turned scarlet, almost purple. The color of her rage, he thought. He’d seen it many times before.
She pursed her lips. “Danielle, I need to speak to Geoffrey alone. Run along and clean up.”
“But Mother-”
“Now,” Charlene said.
Danielle gave a huff and left the room, slamming the door behind her.
Charlene closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply.
“Are you feeling faint?” Geoffrey asked hopefully.
“No. I’m aligning myself with my inner core.”
Her inner core? He hadn’t known she had an inner core. In fact, Geoffrey had always suspected Charlene’s backbone was formed from some slimy form of rubber. Her morals depended on the day, the situation, whom she needed to impress, and, most important, what she wanted.
She opened her eyes. “A week ago, I did something which I believe will ease the burden you have felt in providing for Danielle and myself since your father passed away.”
Geoffrey’s stomach dropped. “You didn’t sell the piano,” he said. The piano had been in his family for generations. It was his prize possession.
It was his prize possession even though it technically belonged to his stepmother. In a fit of passion-driven insanity, Geofrey’s father had altered his will immediately after his marriage to Charlene and left some of the contents of the house to his new bride. Those contents included the piano. He would live in a box in order to keep that piano.
“No, although I’ve considered it once or twice. Since you’re quite obsessed with continuing to pursue a career in music despite the fact that you haven’t profited from it in any shape or form, I decided it was time to take extraordinary measures.”
A terrible dread grabbed at his throat. “What extraordinary measures?”
She cleared her throat and lowered her voice as if she were taking him in her confidence with a juicy piece of gossip. “A friend of mine in Texas told me that a very, very wealthy heiress wants to get married and her business manager is screening prospects. I faxed in your information, and I’m happy to say they’re willing to give you a chance to meet her.”
Horrified beyond words, Geoffrey stood. “You’re joking.”
“Not at all,” she said and swept her blonde hair behind one ear. “It’s the perfect solution. If you marry this woman, you can fulfill your father’s request that you take care of Danielle and me and at the same time continue your endless pursuit of your musical career with no pressure.”
“You’ve gone mad. I’m not going to be bartered off like some-some prize cow so you can shop yourself into oblivion.” He raked his hand through his hair. “It’s barbaric.”
Charlene planted her perfectly manicured hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t be a pussy. Women have been doing this kind of thing for years. It’s the perfect solution. It’s not as if you even have a love life.” She paused a half beat. “You haven’t gone to the other side, have you?”
Geoffrey stifled a groan. The other side was Charlene’s way of referring to homosexuality. Since Charlene preferred generalizations and Geoffrey had been musical his entire life, he knew the possibility of his being gay lurked in her devious small mind. Being gay right now would come in bloody handy. He was almost tempted… But no, knowing Charlene, she would find another way to torture him.
“Just because I’m heterosexual doesn’t mean I’m a candidate to stud this woman from Texas,” he told her. “If marriage is such a great solution, why don’t you do it again?”
Her eyes widened, and she lifted her hand to her throat in a perfectly choreographed gasp. “I can’t believe you’d suggest that to your father’s wife. You have no heart, no honor.”
Geoffrey looked heavenward for help. Oh, no. Now he would get the martyred-widow speech.
“I was married to your father for twenty years. I took you as my son.”
To his eternal regret.
“I bore him a daughter.”
Charlene had moaned and groaned through the entire nine months.
“We loved each other dearly.”
She’d loved his title dearly.
“I’m not going to marry some woman I’ve never met and live in Texas. You may as well be sending me to hell,” he said. “Besides, she probably wouldn’t find me her type.”
“I’ve already thought of that,” she said with unflattering speed. “I’ve made an appointment with my hairstylist for you. I’ve also arranged a facial for you. Those circles under your eyes are dreadful. We can’t do much about your body on short notice, but we can probably make you look a little more firm with a few hours at the gym and some new clothes. Then all you have to do is try to be charming, which I realize will be a stretch, darling, but I have some reading material for you to peruse between now and Tuesday.”
Geoffrey didn’t think she could have horrified him more, but he’d underestimated her. “You’ve lost your mind. I don’t know who this woman is. I don’t even know her name, what she looks like. She could be a descendant of Attila the Hun for all we know.”
“You’ll find out who she is when you arrive in Dallas. The important things that you need to know are that she wants to get married and she’s loaded. Your job is to be charming.”
Geoffrey put his foot down. “I’m not doing this, Charlene. And don’t try shoving any more guilt trips down my throat, because it won’t work. This would be the same as prostitution. I will not do it. There’s nothing you can say to make me change my mind.”
She met his gaze and sighed. “All right, I’ll give you a choice. Find a way to get Danielle’s tuition by Tuesday, or you’re getting on the plane to Dallas. Otherwise…”
Her voice drifted off and she gave his piano a longing, sinister glance. She slid her fingers along the wood lightly.
His gut clenched. “You wouldn’t,” he said.
“It would never be my first choice,” she said. “But oh, yes, Geoffrey, I would.” She met his gaze again. “Much luck on eBay.”
Jackson was going insane.
Lori’s sisters had stayed longer than two days. It was up to four, and he’d culled five prospects from a long list. He’d put a shrink at the top of the list. If ever a woman could use one, he’d say Lori Jean Granger could. Late at night, she preyed on his mind. He was starting to wonder if she was a witch. Or a fairy.
“No fairy,” he said, shaking his head and splitting a piece of grass in half as he sat on his back porch with a beer. She just thought she was a fairy. She thought she was the Miss Fix-It Fairy with unlimited dough, and he was the heartbreaker who had to inform her of the sad truth that she was mortal like the rest of us.
He remembered how her face had paled when he’d told her he knew about the payments she was sending to the three women hiding from their abusive husbands. Jackson thought of his own mother and how she continued to hang in there with his fathe
r, despite his father’s verbal abuse. No matter how many times his father left, his mother took him back. He remembered begging her to change the locks, move away, but she would do neither.
He felt a slice of envy that Lori had been able to help women who were strangers when he hadn’t been able to get through to his own mother. He wondered how she’d done it-what kind of magic she possessed to help a beat-up person find the courage to follow through and make a new life.
Of course, nearly unlimited money didn’t hurt, he thought cynically and crushed his beer can against his chair.
Jackson was still torn about Lori. The rate at which she disposed of her fortune gave him hives. At the same time, he was starting to see how serious she was about trying to make a difference. Finding out about those women touched a sore point inside him. Her determination to keep it secret grabbed at him. In elementary school, he remembered that a history teacher had said that what a person did in secret said a lot more about what they were made of than what they did in public.
In public, Lori wore designer clothes and donated her money to crazy charities. In private, she clung fiercely to her independence at the same time she looked to her dog for acceptance while she tried to take care of the world.
Jackson felt oddly protective of her. He still wanted to talk her out of the marriage deal, but he was starting to understand her point of view, her impatience with her father’s manipulation.
He picked up the file of prospects again. One of these men was going to go through six years of heaven and hell. Heaven to be close to her. Hell not to have her.
Lori had a case of cold feet. After being around her sisters for the last several days and overhearing their lovey-dovey phone conversations with their husbands, she couldn’t help rethinking her decision to marry for access to her money. If only it wasn’t necessary, she thought, frustration zooming through her as her chauffeur negotiated the heavy traffic.
But it was, and Jackson had left a message that he wanted to meet with her tonight to show her the dossiers on five prospective husbands.
