For the first time in his life, his personal relationships were interfering with work. He’d come into the office prepared to work and all morning he’d accomplished less than nothing. What was wrong with him?
But even as he asked the question, he knew the answer. It had something to do with a pair of hazel-green eyes and a smile sweet enough to reform the devil…or maybe even a man like himself. Instead of getting up Sunday morning and establishing a little distance between himself and Cynthia, he’d lingered in her bed. They’d spent the day together. He’d even helped her with Colton, something he still couldn’t believe that had happened. And last night they’d made love over and over until he hadn’t wanted to leave her side this morning.
He was in deep and he didn’t know what to do about it.
“So we have a missing killer,” Stryker was saying, “and a guy who doesn’t remember anything. Or so he claims.”
Jonathan forced himself to pay attention to the conversation. “You don’t believe him?”
“I don’t know. It’s damn convenient. He’s involved somehow. But on which side? We know David and Lisa had a contact who is probably the killer. Tom Flynt—the guy who lost his memory—may be an accomplice, a concerned citizen, or who knows what.”
Stryker shifted in his seat. “We want to go through David and Lisa’s papers. There’s the issue of client-lawyer privilege and we were hoping you would smooth things over with Mr. Shelton.”
“You think you’ll find some answers about Tom Flynt?”
“We hope.”
Jonathan glanced at the slick lawyer in his three-thousand-dollar suit. He’d never been a fan of Shelton’s but the man was efficient. Jonathan was Colton’s legal guardian and Colton was the sole heir of the estate. Therefore some attorney-client privilege extended to Colton, through Jonathan.
Jonathan thought about all his brother had done. He suspected there were more crimes he couldn’t even begin to imagine. What did it matter if they all came to light now?
“Give them whatever they want,” he told Shelton. “Papers, contracts, anything there is. I don’t want any secrets.”
Shelton raised his eyebrows. “You could be jeopardizing part of your nephew’s estate.”
“He’s not going to need the money. I have more than enough.”
Stryker looked pleased. “I’ll let the FBI know.” He rose. “Let me go make the call right now.”
After he left, Shelton stared at Jonathan. “As you requested, I’ve made arrangements to have your brother’s property liquidated. The house and its contents will be inventoried at the end of the week. I suggest you go through it one more time to see if there’s anything you want to keep either for yourself or the child.” Jonathan started to tell him that he wasn’t interested in anything of David’s but then he thought about Colton. While he might not know what would be of future interest to David’s son, Cynthia would. She could help him make the right choices for the boy so that he could have a connection to his past…however tenuous.
“I’ll get over there before Friday,” he promised.
He and Shelton talked over a few more items of business, then the man left. When Jonathan was alone, he tried to return his attention to his work, but all he could think about was Cynthia. Even though they’d made love the previous night, he found himself wanting her again. Somehow in the middle of all this, he’d lost control. He’d better find it and quick, before he did something stupid—like starting to imagine they could ever make this work.
Chapter 13
Jonathan let himself in the front door of the house. Light spilled into the darkened foyer from the living room. The double doors stood open and the sound of music drifted toward him.
He set down his briefcase and shrugged out of his coat. On an impulse, he’d called Cynthia late that afternoon and told her what time he would be home. She’d told him to expect a surprise. Now as he stared at the light reflecting on the black-and-white marble floor, he wondered what she had in store for him. He also wondered when he’d gotten soft.
While he would rather eat glass than admit it, a part of him enjoyed knowing that she and Colton were at home waiting for him. All his life he’d come home to an empty house. He usually got home so late that even Lucinda was gone. She left him a plate of food and instructions for warming, but that was his sole contact with humanity outside of the office. When he was involved with a woman, he made it a point to see her at her place, rather than his. In the past he’d always told himself that he liked the solitude. Now he wasn’t so sure.
Jonathan crossed the floor, moving quietly so he could catch them unaware. He wanted a moment to observe Cynthia and the baby, although he couldn’t say why. The situation should make him uncomfortable, and in a way it did. Yet it also felt right, despite the fact that he hadn’t been able to work all day for thinking about her and how they’d spent the weekend together.
He reached the doorway of the living room. Cynthia and Colton were on a blanket in the middle of the floor. A fire burned cheerfully in the oversize fireplace on the opposite wall. As she’d done when she’d taught her sister to dance, Cynthia had pushed most of the furniture out of the way. Next to her was a low table with several covered dishes and an ice bucket filled with a bottle of wine.
Colton lay on his stomach. His stocking-clad feet kicked in delight as he giggled at Cynthia. Jonathan didn’t think the baby knew him from a rock, but Colton raised his head and saw him, smiled, then waved a pudgy, baby arm in his direction. Cynthia turned and saw him. She smiled as well, then rose and walked over to him.
“You’re home,” she said with obvious delight. “We were just talking about how hungry we are and how exciting the picnic is going to be.”
She stepped into an embrace he hadn’t meant to offer. But as he hugged her close, then kissed her, the moment felt right. Her familiar body pressed against his in a way that had him counting the hours until Colton went to bed. She tilted her head back to study him.
“How was your day?” she asked as she took his hand and led him over to the blanket.
“Good.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
She urged him to sit on the blanket. It was surprisingly soft and he noticed that she’d put a couple of down comforters underneath for cushioning.
He spent his day surrounded by professionals, many of them women. He was used to seeing the females in his life dressed in suits or career dresses. As usual, Cynthia wore jeans and a sweater. Light makeup accentuated her hazel-green eyes, but any lipstick was long gone. She looked fresh and lovely and impossibly young. He knew he had no business messing with her or her life. If he was any kind of a decent human being, he would end this. But he couldn’t. Not yet.
“I thought we’d dine alfresco,” she said, motioning to the plates of food on the table. “Sort of a celebration.”
He took in the bright flowers in vases set strategically beside the table and the red-and-white checkered napkins by the plates. “A picnic?” he asked. “It’s November and it’s raining.”
“Not in here,” she said with a smile.
“But alfresco means ‘outside.’”
“If you’re going to get wildly technical, you’ll have to eat alone.”
The laughter in her eyes belied her stern tone. He found himself relaxing and enjoying her company. “Yes, ma’am.”
“That’s more like it.” She pointed to the wine. “Why don’t you go ahead and open that. I’ll start serving the food. Colton’s eaten already so he’ll just be watching.”
By the time he’d poured them each a glass of the smooth Chardonnay, she’d filled a plate for both of them. Jonathan couldn’t remember the last time he’d had dinner on the floor, but he was surprisingly comfortable with the arrangement. Colton found the simplest objects endlessly fascinating. He cooed over a set of keys, then went into baby rapture at the sight of an empty plate that doubled as a mirror.
Cynthia kept one eye on the infant as she ate her dinner.
“You said your day was fine,” she said. “Do you want to go into detail on that?”
Jonathan hesitated. “Detective Stryker was by updating me on the case. The police want to go through all of David’s papers. Max Shelton, David’s lawyer was at the meeting as well. I told him to give the police anything they wanted. Even the things that are still covered by attorney-client privilege.” He took a bite of cold chicken and chewed. “David’s house is being inventoried at the end of the week. I want everything sold. The money will go in a trust for Colton.”
She looked at him, her expression sad. “I know that he’s not going to need the money. You’ll more than take care of him.” She paused. “You’re sure about selling the house?”
“You’ve seen it. Do you think it’s the right place to raise a small child?”
Cynthia shook her head. “No. It was cold and made me uncomfortable. Even Colton’s room wasn’t all that welcoming.”
“I’m going to make a trip over there tomorrow afternoon,” he said. “I’ve thought about what you said before—about saving some things for Colton.” He shrugged. “As much as I didn’t get along with my brother, I realize it’s important for Colton to have some link with his past.”
“I’ll go with you,” she told him. “That is if you want me along.” She held up a hand. “Before you automatically say no, consider the fact that even though you and David had some issues, he was still your brother and the house will remind you of him. It might be easier to have company.”
Cynthia spoke sincerely and he believed her. She led with her heart. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had offered to help, just to make a situation easier for him. Of course he had a staff at work and their jobs were to offer different kinds of support, but nothing like this.
“I’d like the company,” he said.
“Good.” She dazzled him with a smile. “I’ll leave Colton with Lucinda. That will make it easier for us to get things done and will make her afternoon.” She took a sip of wine. “Jonathan, you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to, but why didn’t you get along with your father?”
He put down his plate. The smell of wood smoke drifted into the room. The sound of rain tapped against the windows. The night might be wet and cold, but here in the house, they were snug and warm. He thought about her question. If anyone else had asked, he wouldn’t have bothered answering. But this was Cynthia and she wasn’t curious, she was concerned. Odd how lately he’d learned the difference.
“My mother ran off when I was five,” he said at last. “She abandoned both me and my father. For some reason, he thought it was my fault. I never knew why. But from then on, he wouldn’t forgive me for being her son. I still lived in this house, but I could have been a ghost for all the notice he took of me.”
Cynthia stared at him. “I don’t understand.”
“You and me both.” He took a sip of wine, then focused his attention on Colton. It was easier to look at the baby than see the pity in Cynthia’s eyes. “My father remarried fairly quickly. Within a year, he had a new son. David was the golden boy. From then on, I couldn’t do anything right and David couldn’t do anything wrong.”
“But I’ve read your bio. You got terrific grades in school and were a star athlete. You turned down full scholarships to several universities because you could afford to pay your own way. You took your father’s company forward, changing it from a medium size, nearly failing firm into a multinational, I-don’t-know-how-many billion dollar success.”
He returned his attention to her and smiled. “Let me know if you want a job in my PR department.”
She shook her head. “I’m being serious. Are you saying that he never once acknowledged any of your accomplishments simply because he couldn’t forgive your mother?”
“Yes.”
The single word hung between them.
“It doesn’t matter,” he finally said. “I let it go a long time ago.”
“I don’t believe you.” She frowned. “Parents’ opinions matter, even when we don’t want them to. I think we’re hard-wired to need their approval and love.”
“It’s a nonissue for me,” he insisted. “As for the love part, that goes along with your Pollyanna attitude about families. Nice, but not necessary.”
“You can pretend all you want,” she said, “but I’m not buying it. However much you want to claim you don’t care or need love, it’s not true. Everyone needs a connection.”
“I’ve survived very nicely for thirty-seven years.”
She glanced at the baby. “What about Colton? Don’t you care about him?”
He hesitated. They were getting into dangerous territory. He knew what she wanted him to say, but he wasn’t going to lie to please her.
“Jonathan?” Her voice was low and pleading. “You have to believe you’ll come to love him.”
“Why?” He set down his wine and leaned toward her. “I’ve told you not to try to make me more than I am, Cynthia. Just a man. Not a saint or the devil. I have some flaws. I’ll admit mine are probably bigger than most, but I’ve learned to live with that.”
“No, you’re more than that.”
Her belief in him was painful. He found himself wanting to believe in himself the way she believed in him, but he knew it was all just illusion. Just like love itself.
“Love is temporary at best,” he said flatly.
“No.” She bit her lower lip. “I won’t accept that. I know how I feel about my family. I love them with all my heart. I would do anything for them. I gave up a career to move back here when Frank died, yet I would do it all again, gladly, because it was the right thing to do.”
“You gave up your career because the big city scared you and you were happy to escape home,” he told her.
But as soon as he said the words, he wanted to call them back. Cynthia flinched. She looked as stunned as if he’d slapped her.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, feeling like a complete jerk. “I didn’t mean that.”
She didn’t respond. He held out a hand to her. “Cynthia, please. Forgive me. I spoke out of turn. I know you’re not like that.”
Finally she reached out and took his hand in hers. “It’s okay,” she said. But even though she smiled, he saw the pain in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated and knew it wasn’t enough.
Later that night Cynthia curled up in Jonathan’s arms and listened to the sound of his steady breathing. Her body was content from their lovemaking, but her mind raced. She couldn’t forget all the things they’d talked about over dinner. Worse, she couldn’t convince herself that they didn’t matter.
Even as he slept at her side, his words echoed in her head. That love was temporary.
He couldn’t mean that, she told herself. It was so far from true. Jonathan had many faults, but ignoring the truth wasn’t one of them. It was his difficult past, she told herself. The things he’d had to live with as a child. His brief outline of his relationship with his father had chilled her heart. The elder Steele had made his oldest son’s life a living nightmare. Then David had grown up to hate him, turning his back on their blood relationship. In the end, Jonathan’s own brother had tried to kill him. No wonder he resisted everything to do with family.
But he had to believe in love. She was convinced that in time he would come to be devoted to his nephew. They would be father and son and that would go a long way to healing Jonathan’s painful wounds. As for her own feelings…she was less convinced about their future.
She desperately wanted to tell him how she felt. Tonight, while he’d spoken about his past, she’d wanted to pull him close and reassure him that everything was different now. She loved him, and when she loved she gave with her whole heart. Her relationship with her family was proof of that. Except…except that might not be good enough for Jonathan. He’d accused her of using her family tragedy to escape from a life that frightened her.
Cynthia disentangled herself from Jonathan and rolled on
to her back. She stared up at the dark ceiling. Was that true, she asked herself. Had she used Frank’s death as an opportunity to creep back home where she was safe?
Her first instinct was to dismiss Jonathan’s comment. After all he’d been lashing out to protect himself. But she told herself not to be hasty. If there was even a thread of truth, she had to find it and explore what it meant. If she’d been hiding behind her family then that was a problem she needed to address. Not only for herself, but for any future she might dream of having with Jonathan and Colton.
“David’s home was featured in several decorating magazines,” Jonathan said as he led the way upstairs in his brother’s house the next afternoon. “He had his secretary send me copies.”
Behind him Cynthia sighed. “Must have been the spread under the too-white-and-scary section of the magazine,” she said. “This place gives me the willies. Everything is so stark. At first I wasn’t sure about your plan to sell it all and put the money in trust for Colton, but now that I’m here for the second time I know it’s the right decision. Colton will be much happier growing up in your house.”
They reached the landing of the second floor. Cynthia moved next to him and smiled. He studied her face. As usual, he’d left for work before she was awake, but when he’d gone by his place to pick her up, he’d sensed that there was something wrong. That she was upset with him. He wondered if it was their conversation from the previous day. He regretted his harsh words, but aside from apologizing—which he’d already done—he didn’t know how to fix the situation.
“Let’s start with Colton’s room,” she said and turned in that direction.
He trailed after her. They walked into the baby’s room. At his house Colton’s quarters were warm and inviting. The scent of baby powder and lotion lingered in the air. There were stacks of diapers, picture books, toys and stuffed animals scattered around the room. In this elegant surrounding, there was only perfection.
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