“Meaning?”
“Meaning no work, not this week anyway.”
“But we’ve got to make a quick decision on some of these.”
“Dad, you were making decisions for this company before I was born. I’m sure you can make a few more. If not, anything you’ve got there can surely keep until Monday.”
His father’s gaze narrowed. “You are my son, Michael, aren’t you? The real Michael hasn’t been kidnapped by aliens, has he?”
“Very funny. You’ve just proved what everyone else has been telling me. I spend too much time here. You count on me being a workaholic.”
“Well, of course I do. Somebody’s got to take over this place when I’m gone.”
“And you’ll probably be sitting right there at that desk when you drop over, won’t you?” Michael said, realizing that he’d instinctively followed the example set by his father.
“A man can’t ask for more than to die when he’s doing something he loves,” his father declared.
“What about being with the people he loves? Wouldn’t that be better?”
His father studied him with a bemused expression. “What’s gotten into you? You aren’t thinking of ducking out on me, too, are you?”
“No,” Michael assured him. “But I have discovered that there’s a lot to be said for getting a little balance into my life.”
“You spent too damned much time with your sister,” his father grumbled. “You open your mouth and I can hear her talking. Can’t imagine where she learned it, since your mother knows that hard work is what puts food on our table.”
Michael uttered a harsh laugh. “Food? Dad, you could feed an entire nation with what you take home from here. Maybe we’d all have been a little richer if you spent time with us, instead.”
His father sighed heavily. “Now I’m neglectful? That’s your sister again. Blast her, isn’t it enough that she bailed out on me? Does she need to start influencing you, too?”
“Actually Trish wasn’t around all that much. She and Hardy took off to make sure I had lots of free time on my hands. Might have gone crazy if I hadn’t had some unexpected company.” He gestured toward the stack of bulging folders and grinned at his father. “Remind me to tell you about it one of these days when you don’t have so much work piled up.”
“Tell me now,” his father commanded in a tone that normally would have brought Michael to a halt.
“No time. I’m going house-hunting.” He stepped into the outer office and closed the door firmly behind him. Even through the thick mahogany paneling of the door and the top-of-the-line soundproofing, he could hear his father bellowing.
“House-hunting? You already have a house. Michael Delacourt, get back in here this instant and explain what the devil has happened to you.”
Michael winked at his father’s longtime secretary, who made it a habit to come in on Saturdays as well. She claimed it was for her own good. Otherwise, her desk was a disorganized mess on Mondays.
“You might want to steer clear of him for the next hour or two,” he told her. “I seem to have thrown him off-stride.”
She grinned. “It’s about time. Whatever you’re up to, Michael, have fun. You deserve it.”
“I do, don’t I?”
If his father had been startled by the changes in his attitude, Grace was positively stunned by his arrival promptly at ten.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“The realtor’s coming at ten, right? That’s what you told me on the phone last night.”
“Yes, but…”
“I told you I’d be here. Didn’t you believe me?”
“Frankly, no. You also said you’d be stopping by the office on your way. I figured your father would have things for you to do.”
“He did.”
“And?”
“I told him to do them himself.”
Her gaze widened. “You didn’t.”
He chuckled at her reaction. “He was even more shocked than you are, but he’ll get over it.” He leaned down and kissed her soundly. “Will you?”
She touched a finger to her lips. “I don’t know.”
“Where are Josh and Jamie? Surely you haven’t locked them in their room for misbehaving already.”
“No. They’ve discovered cable TV. Apparently there is an entire network devoted to cartoons. Thank goodness the realtor is due any minute. Otherwise, I doubt I’d pry them out of there before school starts in the fall.”
Michael heard the squeals of laughter echoing down the hall. “Commandeered your office, too, I see. Until we watched that video last night had that TV ever actually been on before?”
“A couple of times when I was checking the news for reports on cases I had in court,” she admitted.
Michael shook his head. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?” He smiled slowly. “Maybe we deserve each other.”
Grace’s gaze locked with his as if she weren’t quite certain how seriously to take him.
Because there wasn’t time to get into such a loaded topic right now with Jamie and Josh down the hall and a realtor on the way, he merely grinned. He was feeling good today, no doubt about it.
He winked at her. “Something to think about, isn’t it?”
Grace had been off-kilter ever since Michael had actually shown up on time. Forget on time. The fact that he’d shown up at all had been shocking. She didn’t know what to make of his attitude or his innuendoes. If the man was toying with her, hinting at a future he had no intention of sharing with her, she’d have to strangle him. No doubt about it.
She glanced into the kitchen of the house the realtor was currently showing them and heard Michael cross-examining her about the age of the appliances, the taxes, the utility bills and a zillion other details she hadn’t even thought about discussing. She would have, though. Before she made an offer on a house, she surely would have remembered to ask those same questions, rather than daydreaming about bright color schemes and comfortable sofas.
The only problem was she had hated this house on sight. It was huge and pretentious. Even though the boys obviously loved the big backyard and the pool, she didn’t think she could bring herself to live in a showplace like this. It reminded her too much of the Delacourt mansion.
“Grace?” Michael was looking at her curiously. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
“What do you think?”
“I hate it,” she said candidly, grateful that the realtor wasn’t nearby to hear. Curious about his reaction to a place that so closely resembled his home, she asked, “How about you?”
“Hate it,” he agreed. “Maybe we’d better tell her she’s on the wrong track or we’ll waste an entire day looking at houses that are pumped up versions of a Southern plantation.”
She chuckled at the description. “That’s exactly what it is, isn’t it? You talk to her. If I try, I’m liable to laugh out loud. She might consider that an insult to her taste. To tell you the truth, I doubt she would have shown me this place if she hadn’t recognized your name. She probably figures we’re trying to outdo your family.”
“Heaven forbid,” Michael said with a shudder. “Okay, I’ll talk to her. You try to keep the boys out of the pool. They’re itching to dive in. Any second now one of them is going to give the other a shove, then claim it was an accident.”
Grace glanced through the French doors that opened onto the pool deck and saw Josh and Jamie inching ever closer to the side. She bolted for the door.
“Okay, you two, back inside.”
“Grace, this is so cool,” Josh said. “Are you gonna buy it?”
“No.”
“Aw, how come?” Josh asked. “It would be really cool having our very own pool.”
Jamie fought to cover his disappointment with disdain for his brother. “Probably ’cause it’s too expensive, dummy.”
“It’s not too expensive,” Grace said. “It’s just way too fancy.”
“We wouldn’t mess
things up,” Josh promised, regarding her hopefully.
“I’m sure you would try very hard not to,” she agreed. “I’m not worried about that. I just want someplace that’ll be more comfortable.”
“You mean like with chairs and stuff?” Jamie asked. “It’d have furniture, Grace. Maybe you’d like it better then.”
She ruffled his hair. “I doubt that. Don’t look so disappointed. This is only the first house we’ve seen. The perfect house is out there.”
Unfortunately, after two more hours of looking and a break for lunch, they had still seen nothing that fit her idea of a real home.
Michael seemed to agree with her. Once he’d paid for lunch and they were outside waiting for valet parking to return their cars, he turned to the real estate agent. “Thanks for all your help this morning, Mrs. Norton. I think we need some time to fine-tune our needs.”
Grace stood up a little straighter. Our needs? What the devil did he mean by that? This was her house. She’d let him speak for her earlier, but somehow he’d apparently gotten it into his head that he had a say in what she ultimately chose.
“Michael, could I speak to you for a second?” she said urgently, drawing him aside as the realtor gave him a speculative look. “What are you doing? It’s bad enough that she defers to you on every little detail. She needs to know that I’m the customer. There is no us.”
“Do you want to look at more houses with her?”
“No, but—”
“Then let me shake her.”
“I should be the one to do that.”
He shrugged, regarding her with amusement. “Then, by all means, do it.”
Grace returned to Mrs. Norton. “Thank you so much for your help this morning,” she said graciously.
“You’re entirely welcome. Shall we take a look at just one more house. I think I’ve narrowed down the possibilities, based on your earlier reactions. This could be the one.”
Grace doubted it, but the woman was so eager, how could she possibly refuse. “One more,” she agreed with a barely contained sigh. She had to try very hard to ignore Michael’s I-told-you-so look.
Naturally the last house was no better than any of the others. In fact, it could have been a cookie-cutter copy of the first house, except for the color scheme which ran toward burgundy and forest green. Grace actually liked those colors, but not when they were done in heavy velvet and damask fabrics that blocked out every bit of sunlight. It took everything in her to hide her horrified reaction.
This time when she dismissed the realtor, she had no trouble at all doing it forcefully.
As she, Michael and the boys climbed back into the car, Josh declared, “That place gave me the creeps. It looked like ghosts could live there.”
Jamie poked his brother in the ribs. “It’s not polite to say stuff like that.”
“It is in this case,” Michael said. “I expected to find a vampire’s coffin in one of the bedrooms.”
Grace chuckled. All three males stared at her, then burst into laughter.
“It was so awful,” she said, choking out the words between giggles. Then the enormity of what lay ahead of her in finding a dream house sank in. Her laughter died as quickly as it had begun.
“Let’s stop by my place,” Michael suggested, his expression enigmatic, though it was evident to her that he had guessed she was verging on hysteria. “The boys can go for a swim and you and I can have a tall glass of something cold to drink while we rethink our strategy.”
“You’re going to keep helping us look?” she asked, surprised and relieved that this wasn’t going to be the only day he could dedicate to house-hunting.
“Absolutely. I’m terrified you’ll get so worn out that last place will start to look good to you.”
“Not a chance of that,” she said.
“All the same, I think I’ll stick around.”
A few minutes later he turned onto a side street in a quiet, older neighborhood where the houses were large, but looked as if real people lived in them. Lawns were mowed, not manicured, and were littered with bicycles and other evidence that there were children on the block.
Grace turned to him in surprise. “You live near here?”
“Just up the street,” he confirmed.
“But it’s so…” Words failed her.
“Normal?” he suggested. “That’s what I wanted. My secretary helped me find it. She lives about a mile from here.”
“Are you sure you didn’t pick it just so she’d be conveniently located to handle any middle-of-the-night brainstorms you might have?” Grace teased.
“Her husband is an ex-Oiler linebacker. He doesn’t permit middle-of-the-night brainstorms.” He leveled a look at her. “I bought this place because it reminded me of someplace I used to feel at home.”
Could he be talking about their apartment? Grace wondered. That tiny place in what could only be described as a transitional neighborhood wasn’t even close to being in the same league as this. Surely she was mistaken about what he meant.
When he turned into a tree-lined driveway, Grace noticed that his house was on a larger lot than most and set well back from the road. A hedge afforded it some privacy. Beyond that, the house itself was much like its neighbors, built of light-colored brick, trimmed in white, with an attached two-car garage on the side. Shrubs and flowers added splashes of color.
“It’s lovely,” Grace said, something deep inside responding to its welcoming appearance and to the fact that a wealthy, powerful man like Michael had chosen a down-to-earth home like this.
When they walked through the front door, she had to keep herself from gasping in surprise. It was open and airy and filled with the same kind of cozy touches that had made Trish’s house so appealing. The same kind he had told her he’d loved about their apartment.
“I had it gutted down here to create a more open feeling. Trish helped me out with the decorating,” he said, his gaze intense, maybe even a little worried. “Do you like it?”
“Like it? I love it. The colors, all those windows looking out on the backyard, the trees and flowers. It must feel as if you’re living in a garden, just like it does at Trish’s.”
He regarded her with surprise. “I never thought of it that way, but I suppose it does,” Michael said. “I guess I tried to create what we had once along with what she had in Los Piños without even realizing it.”
Josh and Jamie had their noses pressed to the glass doors, eyeing the inviting, crystal blue pool.
“Can we really swim while we’re here?” Josh asked.
“Sure. There are extra suits in that room off the kitchen. There should be a couple that fit. Don’t go in the water, though, until Grace and I get out there.”
“How long will that be?” Josh asked impatiently.
“Not long,” Grace assured him.
“As soon as I show her the rest of the house,” Michael said, then held out his hand. “Come see the upstairs.”
Like the downstairs, each room brought the outdoors in with huge windows and complementary bedspreads in the dark greens and splashy florals of the gardens outside. She counted three bedrooms before he led her to the master suite.
“Best for last,” he said, stepping aside to let her walk in.
It was, too. She could imagine him in this room with its crisp, clean fabrics and soft sage color. The dresser was littered with framed family photos. Gold cufflinks were tossed carelessly aside next to scattered change.
Then there was the bed. Oh, my, she thought as her eyes widened and her pulse kicked up. It was a huge, thoroughly decadent bed with a thick, puffy comforter and piles of pillows. She could imagine making love in that bed, then snuggling together under those covers for warmth as a chilly breeze stole in from the open doors that led onto a small balcony overlooking the backyard and the forested property beyond.
“What do you think?” Michael asked.
Grace’s mouth was dry. Words wouldn’t seem to form.
He grinned.
“Tempting isn’t it?” he asked, stepping up behind her and circling her waist. He linked his fingers loosely in front of her and rested his chin on top of her head. She could feel his breath fanning across her cheek.
“More than you know,” she said honestly.
“Gracie?”
He never called her that except when they were alone and intimate. She trembled at the memories of him whispering it at the height of passion.
“Move in here.”
She broke free of his embrace to stare. “Here?”
“Why not? You love it. The boys will, too.”
“I can’t,” she said at once. “We can’t. The court would have a cow about me bringing those two boys to live with you.”
He had the audacity to chuckle at her indignation. “You mean if we were living here in sin, so to speak.”
“Well, of course. And it’s nothing to joke about, Michael.”
“I’m not joking, Gracie. And I’m not suggesting we set up some sort of informal living arrangement. I want you to marry me. I want us to be a family. This house was made for lots of kids. It was made for us. We can be happy here.”
Listening to him, Grace knew the real meaning of temptation. This house. Michael. It was all she’d ever dreamed of, but he’d neglected to mention one thing. He hadn’t said anything at all about love. They would need a lot of it if they were going to make it, a lot of it as they learned the art of compromise.
The old Michael had had absolutely no experience with the concept of compromise. She had no reason to believe he’d changed.
“I can’t marry you,” she said sadly. “I want to, more than you’ll ever know, but I can’t.”
He stiffened at her refusal and his eyes darkened with hurt. “Why is that? I thought we’d made progress the last few days.”
“We have,” she agreed. “But it hasn’t even been a week, Michael, and old habits die hard.”
“Which old habit are we talking about? You hating me for letting you down?”
She winced at the direct hit. She wanted to believe the accusation was unfair, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe she hadn’t entirely forgiven him for the past. Maybe she needed a whole lot more than a few days worth of evidence before she believed he’d really changed.
Marrying a Delacourt Page 17
