by Susan Conley
Chelsea gritted her teeth, it was right there on top. “You know it is.” Grams dropped the business card into her waiting palm. “He better not have been spying on me!”
“Now, you don’t know he was spying,” Grams tried to soothe her. Grendel, who must have decided since Grams was home to take her side on every issue, meowed her agreement.
“What else would he have been doing? Coming to ask me for a date?” Chelsea seethed.
“Now, dear, you never know, maybe he was.”
She gave her Grams a death stare. “Yeah, and I’ll rip his head off for that too!”
Grams covered the smile threatening to lift her lips. “I think the lady protests too much.”
“I haven’t even started.” Chelsea grabbed her cell phone, and marched to her bedroom, banging the door closed. The picture frames shook, threatening to crash to the floor.
She flung herself across her bed, dinner forgotten. “Bastard!” she yelled aloud to the empty room. “Thinks he can just walk right into my life! Thinks he can do whatever he wants!” She glanced at the card, mouth compressed in a tight line. Angrily, she punched the numbers into the keypad. He answered on the second ring.
“Rearden,” came his stoic response.
“Mr. Rearden, this is Chelsea Karmikel!” she grounded out. “Were you just sitting in my lane? Spying on me?” Her voice rose higher. “I can’t freaking believe this! This is harassment — you do know that, right?” She paused for a breath, her tirade weakening. She could feel the tears starting to burn her eyes. Damn it!
“Ms. Karmikel, please, I was just … Hell, I don’t know what I was doing!” Brad bit out. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again. Please accept my apology.”
A soft sob escaped her throat, she hated crying, and hated that he was listening.
“Chelsea,” his voice softened. “Please, Chelsea. I’m sorry, don’t cry.”
“I … I’m not crying. I’m cooking, and … the … onions are stinging my eyes,” she lied — sort of. She hoped Grams was keeping the kitchen from burning down.
“Please,” he sighed, and she couldn’t tell if he was still driving or not. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Honestly, I’ve made a mess of this whole damn thing. I came to apologize, but lost my nerve. I’m a weakling I guess.”
“I guess you are.” But for the first time since her life had turned topsy turvy, she felt like smiling. She sniffed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bite your head off. It’s been a rough couple of days.” She hitched a breath, her temper flagging. “You took me by surprise in your office this afternoon.” She remembered the dislike rolling off him in waves. “And I’m sorry I don’t remember your aunt.” A few more tears threatened to leak. “She must have been very nice, a good person.”
“Aunt D and I were kindred souls, the black sheep of the family.” She could feel the smile in his voice. “It caused me trouble more than once.” Then his voice grew serious. “I just want you to know, I don’t usually do this. I don’t usually drive to strange women’s houses … not that you’re strange. I mean, I don’t usually I stalk women either … I’m making another mess.” He sighed and Chelsea smiled at his discomfort.
She laughed. “Nice to know it isn’t just me.” She relaxed a little as his deep voice resonated within her.
“Look, why don’t we start over.” He paused. “Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night?”
“Are you sure you want to do that, Mr. Rearden? I mean, I really could be some gold digging bimbo out to steal your aunt’s money.” She wasn’t quite ready to forgive him yet.
“I don’t think so. I should have never thought so. Aunt D was smarter than that. I was letting family politics color my judgment. I hope you’ll accept my apology.”
She grinned into the phone. “Okay, Mr. Rearden, we’ll try it your way, a new beginning.”
“Great, I’ll pick you up tomorrow, around six?”
“It’s a date.”
Chapter Eleven
Chelsea couldn’t believe her ears, couldn’t believe the words that had spilled from her lips. She stared at the cell phone resting in her palm. What she’d thought was going to be a battle of wills, turned about to be something … different. She bounded from her bed, in search of her Grams, who was trying to salvage supper.
“Well?” Grams looked at her expectantly. “Did you tell him off?”
“I started to … but then it all came undone. He started apologizing, and I was so mad I started to cry. Then he was apologizing all over again. It was a mess.” She dropped the phone onto the counter and stared at it, suddenly a foreign device. “I think I just accepted a date for dinner tomorrow night.”
“Well, that certainly puts things in a new light, now doesn’t it?” Grams stirred the spaghetti sauce, adding more garlic and basil, filling the house with a delicious scent.
“Yeah, I guess it does. Maybe he’s not so bad after all.”
“I know he’s damn sexy,” Grams said.
“Geez, Grams! You’re not even supposed to notice that!” Chelsea laughed, her face warming with embarrassment.
“Sweetheart, I’m old, not dead.”
• • •
The following day, a bunch of lilac colored carnations arrived with a note — another apology from Brad Rearden. Chelsea tried to dismiss the fact that he’d been thoughtful enough to try to make up for his unkindness. After all, she didn’t need a man’s approval to feel good — but secretly, she was pleased.
But it did nothing for Chelsea’s nerves later that evening, except set them on edge. “Grams, why did I agree to have dinner with a man I barely know? One who decided my character even before we met?” She dropped into one of the chairs, her nervous fingers smoothed her blouse, she ran her hands through her auburn curls, and stood to pace before sitting again, all while sighing .
“Will you settle?” Grams demanded. “It’s only dinner, not a lifetime commitment.”
“I don’t know what I was thinking! How could I agree to go out with the man?” Chelsea shook her head. “I’m my own worst enemy.”
“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad, and he apologized. Besides, he was only trying to look out for what he thought was his aunt’s best interest. He was close to her, you can’t fault him for that.” She shook Chelsea’s hand. “You’d do the same thing for someone you loved.”
“I know,” Chelsea said. “It’s just … I don’t know. I guess it’s just nerves.” She didn’t want to admit she liked Brad Rearden, felt an attraction to the man. She squeezed her eyes in disbelief. What had she gotten herself into?
• • •
Brad’s nerves showed as he smoothed his hair in the rearview mirror. He looked at himself before he opened the door and asked, “Good lord, what am I doing here? Maybe this isn’t a good idea. She’s going to think I’m crazy, especially if I keep talking to myself.” He inhaled a deep calming breath before striding up the steps to her house. “Damn.” He sighed and hesitantly lifted his hand to knock on the door.
• • •
Chelsea opened the door and immediately found herself relaxing. “Hello, Mr. Rearden.” Her traitorous cat, who’d commiserated with her only the night before, fell in love at first sight and began to twine around his legs. “This is Grendel.” She reached down and picked up the cat to rub her velvety ears. “After one of my favorite stories, Beowulf. She was supposed to be a he, but she had us all fooled.” She gazed into Grendel’s cat-slit eyes. “Weren’t you? But her name stuck, and she’s been Grendel ever since.”
“She’s a lovely little lady.” He too rubbed her ears. “Nothing like the monster who maimed and ate the townspeople in the poem.”
“Not many know the story of Grendel and Beowulf.” Chelsea looked at him with new eyes.
“Are you kidding? My aunt and I read it together.” He smile
d, and Grendel purred into his hand. “And please, call me Brad. ‘Mr. Rearden’ sounds like we’re not going to be friends.”
Chelsea grinned at him; now he wanted to be friends. “Come in, say hello to my grandmother. And thanks for the flowers, it was very kind of you.”
He followed her into the house, smiling his greeting to older woman. “Nice seeing you again,” he said with real warmth in his voice. “I feel I must apologize, Mrs. Karmikel. I meant no offense yesterday. I hope you can forgive my bad manners.”
Grams blushed like a schoolgirl and smiled back. “Never mind about that, you were just doing your job as a nephew. I imagine you run into some unsavory customers now and again.”
“But it’s no excuse for my attitude. Sometimes I leap before I look.” He gave her an easy smile, and it went a long way to earn a place in Chelsea’s good graces. “Well, we need to go if we’re going to have dinner before midnight.”
Chelsea leaned into Grams, and hugged her. “You’ll be okay?”
“Go on now, I’ve been living by myself for more years than I want to think about.” But Grams hugged her back. “You’re young — go, live, have some fun,” Grams whispered in her ear and kissed her cheek. “Me, I’m taking Grendel and we’re going to bed.” She scooped the little cat up in her arms and turned toward the stairs. “Goodnight, sweetie.”
“See you in the morning, Grams.”
Chapter Twelve
Chelsea twisted her nervous hands together before dropping them into her lap. The restaurant Brad had chosen was popular, but the seat groupings created a sense of intimacy — your own little world inside of the bustling one.
“Mr. Rearden, why did you want to take me out this evening? I told you, I have no desire to accept your aunt’s estate.” Her voice was soft, but she knew he could still hear her.
“Please, call me Brad.” He smiled at her, taking one of her hands that now rested on the table. “I believe my aunt wanted us to meet. It was D’s style.” He laughed. “She’s trying to guide my life, even from the grave. I don’t know why yet,” he winked, “but she was a smart lady. She wouldn’t have left you her estate without a reason. It’s yours as far as I’m concerned.” He became more serious. “I should have never let family politics color my judgment.” His eyes filled with pain. “Aunt D was the only person I was close to, who understood me. I’m going to miss her.”
“Then why don’t you keep her house? You’d know her wishes better than a stranger. I’m sure she’d be happy to see you enjoying what she left behind.” She stole a quick glance at him between her lashes. She shifted her hand and entwined his fingers with hers for a moment before releasing them.
“We can discuss business later. Right now, I want to see what my aunt saw. I’m baffled by her story of your revival, and I don’t understand why she wanted to bring us together, but in my gut, I know this was her plan. She knew I’d check out your background. She knew we would meet.”
“Believe me, I’m nothing special.” Chelsea lowered her eyes, avoiding his gaze, because there was something special about her, if she believed her ears and eyes and what her grandmother had told her. She sneaked a peek up at him.
Brad’s own eyes held mysteries as he gazed back at her with a new thoughtfulness. “Oh, you’re something special, alright, I just haven’t figured it out yet. But I will. I’m in the finding out business.”
“You know, you try to be hard as nails, but you have a soft spot for your aunt.”
He lifted his eyebrows, then a grin spread across his face. “I guess I don’t hide my emotions as well as I thought I did — or maybe it’s just you?”
Chelsea’s face heated to a dark red. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I only meant that you don’t hide your love for your Aunt Deloris — it’s refreshing.”
His eyes glowed with the mention of his aunt. “Aunt D made the world better for me.” He shrugged his wide shoulders. “It’s only fair that I try to see what she discovered.” His calloused hand covered Chelsea’s.
The waiter brought their food and for a few moments, silence reigned. “Why do you need to understand me?” Chelsea asked , peering up to find his eyes resting upon her. “Can’t you just accept the fact that somehow your aunt had a moment of tenderness for a young girl, a momentary lapse in judgment?”
He looked away. “No, I can’t. Because I’ve discovered more information, something my family wanted to keep private, something they hid even from me. They couldn’t trust me, and they were right, I wouldn’t, in good conscience, have lied.”
He met her eyes again. “There was a geological survey made of the property, and it had some promising results. That’s why my family wanted to hang on to the property so bad. It wasn’t because of loyalty, love, wanting to preserve Aunt D’s memory. It was all about money they really don’t need.” His disgust was written all over his face. “That's why I just can’t let it go. Aunt D wouldn’t want me to. Regardless, the property is yours.”
Chelsea’s eyes widened, her face paled, she was sure he could hear her heart pounding against her ribs. “But … I … it doesn’t make any difference. I didn’t know your aunt, so I can’t accept her generosity. I can’t.”
“It does matter, don’t you see?” He again picked up her hand. “It was important to Aunt D, so it’s important to me.”
Chapter Thirteen
At that moment, with the innocence shining in Chelsea’s blue eyes, a longing filled Brad’s. He wanted to crush her against his body, protect her from the people who wanted to take advantage of her. Capture her lips, taste the tip of her tongue as it peeked out to swipe across her enticing mouth. The feeling was so strong, he dropped her hand. He had to look away, swallowing back a response that would have exposed his newfound desires. He needed to occupy his hands before they found a way to occupy themselves. His fingers wandered over to hers, brushing against them as he jerked them back, as if she were too hot to touch.
“Let’s finish dinner, then we can talk some more about it. Your food’s getting cold.” But he had no desire to eat, only to consume her. He forced the food to his lips, but it tasted like cardboard.
“I’m not hungry,” Chelsea said. “Would you mind if we just get out of here? We can have coffee at my house.”
“Good, because I’m not hungry either.” He threw enough bills down on the table to cover the tab as well as a generous tip. “Come on,” he held out his hand, “this isn’t what I had in mind after all.” He suffered the burn of her touch as he pulled her to her feet, ushering her outside and toward his Jeep. As he was opening her door, another car pulled up next to them, sexier, sleeker, a Porsche 911. Sam. Brad shook his head. Just what he needed.
The window eased down, and Sam leaned out. “Brother.” He smiled coldly, his icy eyes focused on Brad. “Why didn’t you call, we could have made dinner a foursome.” Brad looked into his brother’s car. A pretty young blonde gazed at him from inside.
“Sam,” Brad returned just as coldly. “We’re just leaving. Enjoy your dinner,” he smiled, “and your lovely companion.” The small blonde in the passenger seat smiled before seeing the frozen look from her date, and her smile faded away.
Sam turned back to Brad as he made to leave. “Wait, you haven’t even introduced me to your date. My, you’ve been hiding her all to yourself.” But his cold eyes said he knew exactly who she was.
“Ms. Karmikel, my brother, Sam,” Brad said.
“Nice to meet you,” Chelsea replied, but Brad saw Sam’s gaze flick over Chelsea like that of a striking snake, like she was a tasty morsel to be swallowed whole.
Chelsea must have seen it too — she visibly shuddered. “Can we get going?” She looked away from the leer in Sam’s eyes, and into the warmth of Brad’s gaze.
“Right.” He helped her into the Jeep, then slammed the door and turned to face his brother. “I want
you to leave Ms. Karmikel alone. Do you understand?” It wasn’t a question, it was a demand.
“Yeah, sure I understand. But you could have told me how good looking she was, then maybe I could understand her irresistible draw; you just can’t leave something like that alone.” Sam shook his head, his stare brushing over Chelsea’s face, then he turned back to his date. His finger trailed down her cheek, leaving a red streak, and she pulled away. Sam dropped his hand and turned back to his brother. “I wouldn’t mind having the sweet Ms. Karmikel for dinner either.” But when Sam looked at Chelsea again, Brad saw the hatred glowing in the deep recesses of his brother’s diamond-hard glare.
He leaned down into Sam’s car. “If I catch you bothering her, you’ll be sorry.”
Sam laughed. “Right, I’m so scared.” He pretended to shudder.
Brad leaned closer. “You should be.” It was more than a threat, it was a promise. He came around to the other side of his Jeep and climbed in beside Chelsea. “We’re out of here.” Gravel flew as the Jeep sped from the parking lot.
“So, I take it that Sam and you don’t get along?” she inquired.
“I wish I could say that was true — it’s more like me and my whole family don’t get along.”
“But you work for them?”
“That was only for Aunt D … and I wish that had gone differently. I don’t work for Rearden, Rearden, and Lyle. They asked me to find you, to do them a favor, and talk to you. I did. It’s done. I have an office in their building, I pay my rent. That’s the extent of our business relationship.” He smiled over at her. “I should probably look for new digs, I’m not going to be very popular.” His face grew more serious. “I knew there was more to it, so it’s my own fault. I guess it’s the whole jumping in feet first problem.” Again he smiled as he watched the road, but he stole quick sideways glances.
“So, you up for some coffee?” She smiled back.
“Sure. In a for a penny, in for a pound.”
