She saw the change in him immediately, even though he tried to bury it. He was alert and on his guard. “Which one?”
She frowned. “It’s none of the ones that you know,” she informed him coolly. “My late father had a son years before he ever made the mistake of crossing Livia’s path. Once she sank her hooks into him, that poor old man never stood a chance. She dazzled him, got him to marry her and less than a year later, he died, leaving half his fortune to me with Livia as the executor. I hear that my brother, RJ, contested the revised will, but he eventually lost. Livia had excellent lawyers.” She raised her chin defiantly. “Not exactly your typical ‘and they lived happily ever after’ story.”
She had that right, Josh thought. There was only one question in his mind. “And you want to visit this half brother why?”
“Because RJ is family,” she said simply. And family was becoming increasingly important to her. “He’s almost old enough to be my father, when you come right down to it,” she admitted. “But he doesn’t hold the fact that Livia managed to have my father sign over half of his fortune to me against me.”
Josh’s eyes met hers, pinning her down. “You’re sure about that?”
Her chin rose a little higher as she told him, “Yes, I am.”
Josh nodded agreeably as he took in the information. Maybe a little too agreeably. “Then you won’t mind if I tag along.”
“Actually,” she told him, tired of politely dancing around the way she really felt just to come off as being agreeable, “I do.”
He flashed her a smile as he opened the passenger door for her again. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”
She sighed wearily. It didn’t seem worth arguing over. “So you’re going to come with me no matter what I say?”
His smile only grew wider. “That’s the general idea.”
She got into the car. He was quick to get in on the driver’s side.
“Isn’t this considered harassment?” Leonor challenged.
“No—” he started up his car “—it’s considered making sure you remain alive.”
A small, annoyed noise escaped her lips. “I didn’t know that that was part of your assignment.”
He shrugged. “Sometimes I improvise as I go along,” Josh told her.
“And there’s nothing I can say to make you change your mind?” she wanted to know. Part of her felt hemmed in—the other part felt, heaven help her, protected.
“Oh, sure,” he answered.
She blinked. Was he telling her the truth? “And that is?”
“‘Let’s go spend the day in your room’ would do it,” he told her, sparing her a quick glance and winking before he turned back to watch the road.
Leonor rolled her eyes and sighed, pretending to be exasperated.
Okay, so maybe the scenario he had just proposed was not without its appeal. But the last thing she needed was to act on his suggestion, no matter how much the idea tempted her.
The night they had spent together was still very fresh in her mind. Fresh enough to bring all the yearning back big-time, and in her present state of mind, she wasn’t up to dealing with all that as well as everything else that was currently on her plate—not the least of which was a fugitive mother who was the closest thing to a crime kingpin she knew.
“I’ll just call my brother to tell him that I’m bringing someone,” Leonor said with a sigh, taking out her cell phone.
Even though he was driving, one hand whipped out and he caught her wrist to keep her from tapping out her brother’s number on the keypad.
She glared at him. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
He released her wrist. “For simplicity’s sake, you might as well just introduce me as someone lending some of his art collection to the museum.”
They were back to that cover story, were they? “You want me to lie to RJ?”
His tone was mild when he answered her. “I want you to keep your stories straight in case your brother shows up at the museum gala—you are thinking of inviting him, aren’t you?” he guessed.
Sheffield was inviting well-connected people, CEOs of big companies and the like, all in hopes of generating more revenue for the museum.
“My brother runs my late father’s company, so yes, the thought had crossed my mind.” She was stalling, heaven only knew why. Her brother and his wife and children already had their invitations. “All right, I see your point,” Leonor said, relenting. For a brief, shining moment, she had entertained the thought of just being honest with RJ but that obviously wasn’t going to work here. “You’re Joshua Pendergrass, big-time—and modest—art collector. Happy?”
He smiled at her as he pulled away from the curb and onto the through street. “Happy,” he told her. “Now, what’s your brother’s home address?”
* * *
RJ Hartman, his wife, Madeline, and his three adult children lived in a large, two-story, 4,200 square foot house just outside of Austin. While it was apparent that Leonor’s half brother did not have the kind of money that Livia had at the pinnacle of her criminal reign, Josh noted that there appeared to be no resentment toward Leonor from either her older brother or his wife, both of whom greeted Leonor warmly and were exceedingly polite toward him, as well.
As the visit wore on, Madeline Hartman insisted that they stay for lunch.
“Just a few things I’ve thrown together,” she told them.
Madeline, it turned out, had “thrown together” a three-course meal that also included appetizers and a dessert that Leonor told her sister-in-law was simply “to die for.”
“You should visit more often,” Madeline told her, obviously pleased by the compliment as she set another, extra-large slice of wine cake on her plate.
“So tell me more about this gala your museum is holding,” RJ encouraged as the four of them, plus two of their three children, sat in the dining room, making short work of Madeline’s wine cake.
“I’m really hoping that you’ll be there,” Leonor said. “It’s only being held tomorrow night. The museum has a number of new works that have been lent to us by several discerning art collectors. I’d love for all of you to attend,” Leonor told them again. “The food is being catered, of course, and promises to be excellent. Not as good as yours, Madeline, but almost,” she qualified with a warm smile.
Madeline laughed, delighted. “We’ll definitely come, won’t we?” Her eyes swept over her son and daughter, coming to rest on her husband’s face.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” RJ told his half sister. “I’ve got the invitations on my dresser bureau.”
Just then they heard the front door opening and then closing again. A moment later, a tall, scowling, younger-looking version of RJ walked in.
“Barret, you missed lunch,” RJ said with a reproving note in his voice. “Your aunt Leonor is here and—”
“I know who she is, Dad,” Barret said sharply, cutting his father off. He nodded curtly at Leonor.
The annoyed look on RJ’s face deepened. “I was about to introduce you to our guest, Joshua Pendergrass,” he told Barret coldly. “He’s—”
“Is he with ‘Aunt’ Leonor?” Barret asked, cutting off his father again.
RJ’s eyes narrowed. He was obviously embarrassed by his oldest son’s abruptness and at a loss as to how to get him to behave properly.
“Yes. He—”
“Then I don’t need to know anything else.” Turning toward his mother, Barret said, “I already ate, Mom.” And with that, he left the room.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” RJ apologized to Leonor and his guest. “You’d think that once they were out of their teens, they’d learn how to behave like civilized human beings again. Unfortunately,” he sighed, “that doesn’t always happen.”
“You�
�ll have to forgive our oldest,” Madeline said to Leonor and Josh. “He’s been going through a rough patch, trying to find himself.”
“Not exactly a challenge, Madeline,” RJ said, clearly embarrassed as well as annoyed. “He’s the tall kid with the miserable personality.”
“I’m still sorry you had to see that,” Madeline apologized, trying to smooth things over. “Barret’s not usually like that.”
“No, sometimes he’s asleep,” RJ interjected, obviously as upset, in his own way, as his wife was over his son’s behavior. “I guess we’ll just have to be happy that two of the kids turned out well,” he concluded, looking at Braden and Celia.
“Well, Barret’s welcome to come tomorrow night, too—as long as he promises not to throw rocks or anything else at the paintings,” Leonor cautioned. She was only half kidding.
“Don’t worry, if I can’t get him to clean up his act, I won’t give him his invitation,” RJ promised.
“We might all have a better time if he doesn’t go,” Braden commented, finally adding in his two cents.
“Can we take a vote on that?” Celia asked, looking around the table.
“We’ll see if he’s in a better mood tomorrow,” Madeline suggested. “He can be a really lovely person when he wants to be.”
RJ murmured something under his breath, but didn’t bother repeating it.
A few minutes later, he and Madeline walked his sister and guest to the front door. “Well, except for one hiccup, all in all I’d say it was a nice meal.” RJ hugged Leonor as did his wife. “You really need to come around more often, Leonor.”
“I will,” she promised. “And we’ll see you tomorrow.”
She didn’t notice the pensive look on Josh’s face as they took their leave of her brother and his family.
Chapter 17
Josh tried to refrain from saying anything for as long as possible, but the more he thought about Barret Hartman’s rude behavior toward Leonor, the more annoyed he felt himself becoming.
Finally, he couldn’t keep quiet any longer. Sparing a glance toward Leonor as he drove her back to her house, Josh asked point-blank, “Exactly what is that kid’s problem?”
Leonor shrugged, hoping that he wouldn’t pursue the subject any further. “Oh, he’s not so bad.”
“He’s not so good, either,” Josh countered. “Seriously, what’s his problem with you?” he wanted to know.
Leonor pressed her lips together. For a moment, she was unwilling to say anything. But then she sighed and answered Josh’s question, at least to the best of her ability.
“You know how some people can never have enough money, no matter how much money they actually have?”
“Go on,” he encouraged. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear.
“Well, my nephew Barret kind of falls into that category.”
That didn’t answer anything, Josh thought. “What does that have to do with the kid’s sullen attitude toward you?”
Considering the fact that Josh had delved into her family’s dynamics in trying to assess Livia’s hold over them, she wasn’t sure just how much family history he already knew. “My father left half his money to RJ and half to me.”
She’d already mentioned something to that effect, Josh recalled. “Seems fair.”
“Let’s just say, not to everyone,” she told him, thinking of Barret, “especially considering that Livia stole Robert Hartman—my father—away from his first wife.”
Josh thought back to the man sitting across from them at the table. Leonor’s half brother seemed rather friendly, but Josh knew people could put on elaborate acts if it suited their purposes.
“Does RJ feel that way?” he wanted to know.
“I gather he did at one point,” Leonor answered honestly. “He brought a suit against my mother—and me. But the judge ruled against him, and eventually, he came to terms with that.”
“But Barret didn’t?” Josh guessed.
She didn’t feel comfortable about pointing fingers. Barret was, after all, family. Because of that, she cut the young man a lot of slack.
When she spoke, it was without blame. “Barret’s an angry young man who needs something to be angry about. He’ll get over it.”
Her reaction seemed exceptionally mild to him, under the circumstances. Her nephew’s eyes had been almost shooting daggers at her. “You seem awful laid-back about the whole thing.”
Leonor laughed good-naturedly. “Well, I’ve had to suffer a great many slings and arrows because of who my mother was and is. In comparison, this is nothing. Trust me,” she assured him.
Josh had his doubts about that. Shrugging, he allowed, “If you say so.”
“I say so,” she replied with a note of finality that surprised him. She was, in effect, telling him that the topic was off-limits.
* * *
Josh brought her to her house.
Parking his vehicle in the street, he got out and came around to the passenger side. As he was about to open that door, she informed him, “I’m perfectly capable of getting out of your car.”
Josh pulled the door open. “No one said that you’re not.”
Closing the door again, he walked beside her as she approached her front door.
“Now what are you doing?” she asked him, watching him warily.
“Walking you to your door,” he replied mildly.
“You don’t have to do that,” she informed him. “This wasn’t a date,” she insisted.
“Maybe it slipped your mind,” he brought up, “but someone tried to run you over twice now, so yes, I do.”
She frowned. He was getting a little carried away in her opinion. Maybe he had managed to scare off the threat and it was over. “You expect someone to run me over in front of my house?”
She began to walk and he came right along with her. It seemed to her that Josh was bound and determined to make sure no harm came to her. She supposed that did have a nice feeling to it.
“Bad guys have been known to be creative,” he told her as he escorted her to her door.
“So have FBI agents,” she pointed out flippantly.
She was offering resistance. He’d expected nothing less from her. “If I were that creative, I would have never told you who I was.”
“Maybe that was all part of your plan to get me to trust you,” she countered. Leonor put her key into the front door, then looked at him over her shoulder. She was wavering and weighing pros and cons of her next words. Finally, she said, “Well, since you’re here, would you like to come in for a nightcap?”
She watched as just a hint of a sexy smile began to cover his mouth. “Would it damage my trustworthiness if I said yes?”
“I’ll have to think about that one.” Even so, Leonor left her door open for him as she walked into her house.
Josh never lost a step following her in.
“Nice place,” he commented, looking around. “It’s actually a lot simpler looking than I expected,” he confessed.
“I sent the throne out to be cleaned,” Leonor deadpanned.
He nodded his head, never missing a beat. “That would explain it.”
She made her way into the small kitchen and opened her refrigerator. “Beer or whiskey?” she offered.
“Beer. Whiskey’s too potent,” he explained, adding, “You’re intoxicating enough as it is.”
“Is that the best you’ve got?” she challenged. Taking out two bottles of beer, she handed Josh one.
He took it, but his attention was elsewhere. “I haven’t even gotten warmed up yet,” he told her.
Josh allowed himself one long sip of the dark brew. They sat down on her gray sofa. As he placed the bottle of beer on the coffee table, he glanced at her profile—and
noticed something he hadn’t before. It made him smile.
Catching his expression, she asked, “What?”
His eyes crinkled as he answered, “You’ve got freckles.”
Her hand instantly went up to her cheek, covering the offending area. “No, I don’t,” she denied.
“Then how did you know where to put your hand to cover them?” he asked, amused by her reaction.
Leonor stiffened. She always tried to put makeup over her freckles. She’d always hated them. Freckles belonged on children, not on grown women.
“Did you come here to make me feel self-conscious?” she asked.
He drew her hand away from her cheek. “Freckles look good on you,” he told her. “And no, I came here because I wanted to make sure you got in safe.”
She blew out a breath. “Well, I’m in. Safe. You’re free to go.”
A self-mocking smile curved his mouth. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”
“Why aren’t you leaving?” she wanted to know, her voice dropping to a lower octave. The way he was looking at her was swiftly dissipating her resolve.
“Because,” Josh confessed, his voice as low as hers, “you seem to have this power over me, making me want to take you into my arms and kiss you.”
She could feel her heart starting to pound. Leonor raised her eyes to his. She barely had enough breath within her to ask, “So what’s stopping you?”
“Damned if I know,” he whispered.
The next second, Josh drew her into his arms, pulling her in very close. Close enough to feel his heart echoing hers.
And then he kissed her.
It didn’t end there.
But they both knew that it wouldn’t.
Unlike the first time, they knew exactly what to expect, what was waiting for them, and they immersed themselves in each another with both familiarity and abandonment.
Clothes fell away without ceremony as vivid memories of the other night were revisited, re-created and, if possible, improved on.
Everything was strikingly familiar and yet at the same time, new and different from before.
Colton Undercover Page 17
