Alyssa wasn’t embarrassed by her jealousy. “I know that.”
“Good.” Her father pressed his lips against her right temple. “Now what do you say we head on over to the kitchen where I can whip you girls up something to eat? You need to put a little more meat on those bones.”
“Well, actually—”
“Don’t tell me you’re on another crazy diet,” her father said. “There’s a no-diet rule when you come to see me, remember?”
Tangela looked as though she was ready to kiss him. “Then we need to visit you more often,” she joked.
Laughing, Alfred escorted the ladies toward the main house, while describing a mouth-watering clam and mussels dish. When he had finished, both Alyssa and Tangela’s stomachs growled in unison.
“Oh my God! Alyssa, is that you?”
Before she could turn all the way around, Alyssa was crushed in a pair of strong arms. “I can’t believe it. Let me get a good look at you!” The woman stepped back, holding Alyssa’s shoulders at arm’s length.
“Ms. Beatrice,” Alyssa declared, beaming a radiant smile at the older woman. “How good it is to see you.” There were considerably more wrinkles in the woman’s kind face and her once salt-and-pepper hair was now completely cotton-ball white.
“Stunning,” Beatrice praised. “Absolutely stunning.” Her arms looped around Alyssa’s waist. “Didn’t I tell you that you’d fill out one day? I bet you can hardly get the men off you. How many are you juggling? Two? Five? Twenty? I want details.”
Alfred cleared his throat. “I’m still standing here, you know.”
The women laughed.
Alfred shook his head and turned toward his stove.
Beatrice herded Alyssa and Tangela toward the long servants’ table at the end of the gigantic kitchen. “I want to hear everything,” she insisted. “The glamorous life of a supermodel.”
“I don’t know about glamorous, but it’s certainly hectic.”
“The parties are fun, though,” Tangela tossed in. “Whenever I can get Alyssa to go.”
“Still a homebody, eh?” Beatrice said with a note of disappointment. “Honey, if I was you, I’d be living it up before those perky breasts head south and that small waist of yours expands.”
Again, Alfred cleared his throat.
“Don’t even pretend that you don’t know what I mean,” Beatrice chided. “Or you wouldn’t be marrying someone fifteen years younger than you.”
Alfred fell silent.
Alyssa and Tangela shared a look. Clearly Beatrice disapproved of Alfred’s engagement.
“Well, I think love knows no age,” Alyssa said, standing up for her father. “All that matters is how two people feel toward each other.”
“So tell me,” Beatrice said, returning her attention to Alyssa. “Stop stalling. Talk.”
Suddenly tongue-tied, Alyssa shrugged. The image of her supermodel job didn’t exactly match up with reality. Before she could start playing catch-up, the kitchen door swung open. Jamie and Lidi, the estate’s two maids, entered, trailed by James, the gardener, and Antonio, the butler.
“There she is!” Jamie shouted.
“I told you I saw them pull up,” James exclaimed.
Alyssa was instantly surrounded and pulled from one embrace to another. Everyone marveled and praised her for how much she’d transformed from the skinny knock-kneed little girl who raced around the estate and climbed everything that stood still.
“Oooh. I can’t wait until Quentin gets a good look at you,” Lidi cooed. “You’ll finally have him eating out of the palm of your hand.”
Jamie and Beatrice elbowed her.
“What?” Lidi asked, innocently.
Alyssa perked up. “Q’s coming?”
“Oooh, there’s that look,” Lidi said, smiling. “I told you she still had a thing for him.”
“No. That’s not true,” Alyssa said. “I was just curious.”
“Even I don’t buy that one,” her father said, pouring white wine into the pot of heated olive oil.
“No. I mean it,” she insisted. “I know I used to have a minor crush on him, but that was years ago. I’ve outgrown it.”
“Minor?” Beatrice barked as her whole body shook with mirth. “That’s putting it mildly. Anytime he came home, you sneaked around the property like Nancy Drew.”
“I did not,” Alyssa lied, feeling her face flush with embarrassment.
“I caught you crawling around the main library when he was in there once,” Beatrice reminded her.
“And I discovered you climbing the trellis outside his bedroom a couple of times,” James chimed.
Alfred looked up from chopping garlic. “What?”
“Mr. James!” Alyssa gasped.
“I—I wasn’t trying to look into Q’s room,” Alyssa stammered. “Billy Dee Williams had climbed up on the roof that time. Don’t you remember, Mr. James?” She widened her eyes and mentally willed him to play along.
James laughed. “I’ve never known of any of Mrs. Hinton’s pampered Chihuahuas climbing up the roof.”
Traitor.
“What about the time you stole away in the trunk of the limo?” Antonio asked. “You said that you were going to sneak into Quentin’s luggage and fly with him on one of his trips. Now that was hilarious. I think Mr. Sterling found you that time.”
“Alyssa!” her father snapped. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“Thanks guys for ratting me out,” Alyssa said, rolling her eyes. “My Christmas list is going to be a lot shorter this year.”
“Aww. You know we love you,” Antonio said, kissing her on the cheek and stealing another hug.
“We just aren’t buying that you’re really over Mister Quentin.”
“Yeah,” Beatrice added. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
Quentin slept during the flight to South Carolina. It was either do that or drink every one of those cute little bottles the airline attendant had stocked on the flight. That was always the choice when flying back to his parents’ estate—or more to the point, when it came to seeing his father. Luckily these visits were few and far between.
The problem was that he and his father never saw eye to eye. Usually when they spent time together, one could set their watch by how long it would take before they were embroiled in a heated argument. No doubt this trip wouldn’t be any different, especially now that he’d struck a deal with the devil.
The moment the airplane touched down, Quentin opened his eyes and stretched in his seat.
“Welcome back to the living,” Sterling said, pulling out his BlackBerry from his breast pocket. “I had to endure quite a few complaints about your snoring while you were knocked out.”
“I’m sure you were able to handle things like you always do,” Quentin answered, unfazed. “Why else do you think I keep you around?”
“I wonder about that myself,” Sterling said, cracking a half smile.
Quentin turned his head and noticed a woman across the aisle clutching the current issue of Vogue. Good Lord, was that magazine stalking him?
The plane rolled slowly up to the gate and minutes later the passengers jumped out of their seats and popped open the overhead bins. After bumping into bodies and joining in the mass exodus, Sterling and Quentin made their way toward baggage claim.
Before they reached their destination, Antonio, their father’s lifelong driver, stood before baggage claim with a placard that read: HINTONS.
“Mister Quentin and Mister Sterling,” Antonio greeted. “How wonderful it is to see you.”
“Likewise, my man,” Sterling returned, slapping a hand against the man’s back. “Imagine my surprise that Alfred is actually going to beat you back down the aisle.”
“What can I say?” Antonio said, blushing. “He got lucky.”
The men laughed and then saw to the bags getting loaded into the limo.
“Do you know if Jonas and Toni are flying in?” Quentin asked, leaning toward the minibar.
<
br /> Sterling frowned as he once again pulled out a stack of papers from his briefcase to work on during their ride to the estate. “They’re flying in on Saturday morning.”
“Good. Good. I haven’t seen them since Jonas packed up his company and shipped them out to Georgia.”
“They have planes that fly to Georgia, too, you know.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want Jonas thinking that I’m finished with my vacation so he can put me back to work.”
“Issues.” Sterling buried his face into his paperwork once again. “I may be moving back to my Atlanta office myself. I need a slower pace for a while.”
“Fine. I guess I’ll have to come visit both of you.”
Quentin finished pouring his drink and then settled back in his seat. “I am going to work one of these days…as soon as I settle on the career I’d like to pursue. You always said that I should pursue something I enjoy.”
“You mean now that your days of being a gigolo are over?”
“I prefer the term connoisseur of women,” he said, smiling and then glancing out of the window. “It takes a special kind of man to really appreciate women—the incredible artistry God creates in the curve of a woman’s hip, the size, weight and warmth of a good, firm breast. And their scent…” He swirled the amber liquid in his glass and remained thoughtful. “Did you know that every woman has their own unique scent?”
Sterling glanced up from his papers.
“It’s true,” Quentin insisted. “It’s faint, buried beneath their perfume, soft baby powder and fruity lotions. But it’s there and it’s intoxicating—every one of them.”
“Well, I’ll be damn,” Sterling sighed. “You’re a poet.”
“Connoisseur,” Quentin repeated. “And damn proud of it.
“I don’t know how I’m going to survive this arrangement. Monogamy is not in my DNA.”
Minutes later, the limo turned onto the Hinton estate. A sea of lush green grass surrounded the long spiraling driveway. Quentin caught sight of two women out by the stables. Though he couldn’t identify who they were, his interest was piqued at the sight of thick ebony hair billowing in the wind. He hit a button on the door and his window slid down in time for him to hear the sound of women’s laughter floating on the air.
Maybe this trip won’t be so dull after all.
Antonio rolled the limo to a stop and a second later, Quentin and Sterling rustled through the main house’s eight-foot mahogany doors and into the grand foyer with its classic black-and-white marble and four angled 12-foot-tall archways.
“Hello, is anybody here?” Quentin called out.
Beatrice appeared at the top of the second-floor banister with a stack of neatly folded towels in her arms. “Mr. Quentin, Mr. Sterling, you’re home.”
Quentin raced up the curved staircase and wrapped his arms around the white-haired maid. “Beatrice, my love, I’ve finally come back to make an honest woman out of you.” He planted a big, sloppy kiss against her fleshy cheek.
Beatrice’s full figure quaked in his arms as she laughed at his shenanigans. “Boy, unhand me before you tempt me to really make a man out of you.”
“You. Me. My bedroom at midnight. I’ll provide the wine and you bring the baby oil.”
She gasped. Her smooth cocoa-brown complexion flushed a deep, dark burgundy. “I, um, oh, I, um—get on now.” She smacked him on the arm. “Just the devil, I swear.”
Sterling just shook his head at their outrageous flirting.
Quentin laughed and released her, but when she turned and walked away, he gave her one last surprise and pinched her.
She jumped three feet and rewarded him with another smack. “Go on now before I put you over my knee.”
“Promise?”
“Oh, you’re impossible,” she spat and stomped off.
Sterling climbed the stairs. “Why do you do that?” he asked, shaking his head in disapproval. “What if she files a sexual harassment suit?”
“Relax.” Q laughed. “Beatrice knows I’m only teasing.” He slapped his brother on the back as they headed down the hallway toward their old bedrooms. Quentin eyed his bed and thought about taking a quick nap, but the laughter outside penetrated his window. He strolled over and caught sight of the two women riding two chestnut Thoroughbreds.
He still couldn’t make out who they were, but the one with the thick, rich ebony hair held his attention just by the graceful and expert way she rode and handled the animal.
“No need to be rude. I should go introduce myself.” He jetted for the door and almost crashed into Antonio who was bringing up his luggage.
“Is there anything wrong, sir?” Antonio called after him.
“No. Everything’s great.” Q took the stairs two at a time, raced through the house and then escaped out the back door toward the stable. When he got closer, his run slowed to a light jog. The women’s melodic laughter carved a smile onto his lips, but when he finally reached the fence, his smile melted and his eyes widened in shock.
“I don’t believe it,” he muttered, recognizing the face that had stalked him from the cover of Vogue.
Chapter 4
Alyssa loved horses and growing up on the Hinton estate meant that there were plenty around. Years ago Roger Hinton tried his hand at horse racing, mainly because that was what men of his stature did. However, it never really panned out. Bad luck coupled with bad investments caused her father’s employer to lose interest in his Thoroughbred ambitions.
But the horses remained.
Throughout Alyssa’s childhood, when she wasn’t climbing a tree or shadowing Quentin whenever he came home, she was living and breathing everything about horses or swimming like a fish. Who knows, maybe one day when her career settled down a bit, she would invest in a stable of her own.
“Okay, I’m heading in,” Tangela said. “My butt can’t stand too much more of this.”
Alyssa laughed. “But I thought we were going to race?”
“You win,” Tangela announced, wincing and turning her horse toward the stable. “I’ll see you back in your room.”
“Fine. Be that way.” Alyssa pretended to be miffed. “Tell Jimmie, I’m going to keep Charlie here out a little longer.” She leaned forward and stroked Charlie’s long neck. “You don’t mind, do you, boy?”
Charlie shook his head. Alyssa smiled and patted the top of his head.
“I think he likes you,” a masculine voice rang out, startling both Alyssa and Charlie.
With a quick, firm squeeze of her thighs, Alyssa kept Charlie under her control while she turned her head to see Quentin standing at the fence and smiling back at her. Alyssa sucked in a surprise gasp but in the next second a wide smile blossomed across her face. “Well, the feeling is mutual,” she said, finally responding to his statement.
Q opened the fence and stepped inside. “That’s good. It’s good to know that the animals are in such good care.”
Alyssa’s gaze followed his languid strut toward her and Charlie. It sort of reminded her of one of those slick panthers she’d seen on the Discovery Channel. Plus, there was an unusual look on his face. One she recognized, but one that had never been directed toward her before: lust. Pure and simple and raw as hell.
The muscles in her stomach quivered like Jell-O while she struggled to suck enough oxygen into her lungs in order not to pass out.
“You look like a natural up there,” he praised. “Been riding long?”
Her smile dimmed a little at the odd question. “Most of my life,” she answered.
Quentin stopped before Charlie and reached up to stroke his head. “Hey, boy. How are you doing?”
Charlie stepped forward and nuzzled the side of Quentin’s face.
“Whoa, boy. Whoa.” He laughed. “You know I don’t get down like that.”
Alyssa laughed and with her thighs commanded Charlie to step back. “It looks like he missed you.”
Q ruffled Charlie’s mane. “Well, I don’t make it home too often.” He
glanced up at her. “You here for the wedding?”
“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
“Really? Are you a friend or family of the bride?”
Alyssa’s smile vanished as she blinked at him. He doesn’t know who I am. That knowledge, at first, dismayed her, but then slowly her mischievous side took over and her smile returned.
“No. Actually the groom invited me.”
“Ah, Alfred.” Q’s eyes lit up. “He’s a good man, you know. He’s been working here a long time. He’s like family to most of us.”
“Yes, he speaks very fondly of the Hintons.”
Quentin cocked his head. “I heard you tell your friend that you wanted to race. Still game?”
“What—you think you can beat me?”
“You’re not afraid of a challenge, are you?” Excitement crept into his voice. “I don’t want to toot my own horn, but I’m quite an established rider.”
Alyssa snickered at the outrageous lie. Stories of Quentin’s lackluster riding skills were notorious among the staff, but damn if Alyssa could stop herself from wanting to have a little fun. “All right. You’re on.”
Q flashed her another smile that caused her heart to race.
“Wait right here,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
“Yes, sir.” She gave him a faux salute and then watched as he trotted off. Shifting in her saddle, Alyssa took her time to soak in his back profile. Not much had changed over the years. The philandering playboy kept himself in tip-top shape and his effect on her senses was just as strong as it had ever been. Had she really seen lust in his eyes or had she imagined the whole thing? After so many years of hoping and praying for such a miracle, she didn’t quite trust her read on the situation.
Don’t get your hopes up too high. As soon as he learns who you are that look in his eyes is going to quickly turn into disappointment. Alyssa weighed that information for a moment before her mischievous side spoke up. But until he finds out, there’s no reason why you can’t have a little fun.
Minutes later, Quentin emerged from the stables with Midnight, a gorgeous black stallion that was clearly a superior horse to playful Charlie, but given that Q was going to be the rider, she still liked her chances of winning a race—provided he managed to remain topside.
Love Takes Time Page 4
