The rest of the dinner passed uncomfortably enough. Except for some polite conversation with William regarding the stock market, Daniel continued to remain lost in thought, leaving Charlotte to listen to island gossip and fend off more grins from an increasingly tipsy Cole, who seemed quite determined to win her attention away from Daniel.
He needn’t have bothered. Even silent, there was no forcing Daniel into the background. The air pulsed with his energy. Charlotte found herself aware of every slight movement, every imagined glance in her direction. When he excused himself during dessert—to make a call, he claimed—the room fell flat and lifeless.
After dinner, she declined Cole’s offer to check out the Lucky Duck, and instead excused herself to explore the library. William had made mention of some of his ancestors’ whaling diaries, and she was curious. She was passing through the downstairs parlor when she heard the sound of voices coming from near the veranda doorway. It was Vivian and Daniel.
“It wouldn’t hurt you to be a little more supportive of your brother’s efforts,” she heard Vivian whisper harshly. “He’s trying to make something of himself.”
“You mean you’re trying to make something of him, don’t you? He’s not going to build a new America’s Cup boat.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know Cole. He doesn’t even have an official design, for crying out loud. Face it, this is a pipe dream like every other thing you’ve come to me with.”
“This time is going to be different. I plan to stay on him.”
“Right, like you stayed on him all the other times. No way.”
“Dammit, Daniel, he’s family. Family supports one another.”
Charlotte heard a strangled sigh. “Funny how you only play the family card when you need something from me. We both know you would have ignored me completely if Dad hadn’t left the trust in my name. Tell me, would I be family now if I hadn’t become rich and famous? You know what, don’t answer. I’m not in the mood for any more trumped-up affection.”
The veranda door rattled shut, followed by the sound of a frustrated cry and the clapping of espadrilles on tile. Charlotte moved to make herself scarce, but didn’t do so in time. Before she could get three feet, Vivian pulled up short in the doorway.
The women eyed each other. “If you’re looking for Daniel, he went for another one of his beach walks,” Vivian said. Except for the slight breathlessness in her voice, there was no evidence she’d ever been arguing.
Smoothing her hair, the older woman started toward the hallway, only to stop when she saw the book in Charlotte’s hand. “Don’t get too involved in any library readings,” she told her. “I doubt you’ll have the chance to finish. My son seldom keeps the same companion for long. He’s very difficult to please.”
“I don’t know about that,” “Charlotte said, meeting her gaze point for point. “All you need to do is pay attention to what he wants.”
Vivian’s lips curled in a smile. “So you think you figured out the path to Daniel’s heart, have you?”
“What I think is that I’m willing to listen. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a phone call to make.”
With more boldness than she felt, she swept past Vivian.
…
How could a man be so prickly and yet so charming? Back in her room, she sat on the window seat and flipped through the pages of Judy’s research file. There was Daniel with Valerie Pinochet at a movie premiere. Daniel in the Mediterranean with a Greek tycoon’s daughter. Daniel in New York escorting the latest top cover model, and the next latest, and the next. Dozens of photographs, dozens of women. How did this fit with the lonely man she met tonight on the beach?
My son seldom keeps the same companion for long. She sighed, thinking of how true those words were. And her…what was she thinking passing snipes with Daniel’s mother like that? Suggesting she knew the way to Daniel’s heart. Suggesting she wanted Daniel’s heart. She didn’t.
As if she could compete anyway. She flipped over another clipping, revealing another gorgeous escort.
Suddenly she realized her cell phone was ringing. “Where have you been, young lady?” Judy snapped. “I’ve been waiting for your phone call all evening.”
“Sorry, Mom, I was busy. Besides, it’s Friday night. Don’t you have something better to do with your life than wait for my phone call?”
“I have no life; I’m living vicariously through you.”
“Well, first, the house is incredible. The Ferncliffs participated in the Asian trade so there are some incredible Oriental pieces that have been the family for years. I think my bed is—”
“Forget the roster of antiques; give me the important details. What’s Danny-boy’s family like?”
“Preppy. Waspy. His mother’s a real piece of work.” Charlotte relayed the details of their introduction.
“Sounds like that’s where Moretti gets his audacity.”
“Apples and oranges, Judy.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Vivian Ferncliff is all about Vivian. She’s only interested in how a situation might affect her.”
“And Moretti isn’t?”
“No, not really.”
“You sound like you’re making excuses for the man.”
“No excuses,” she insisted, thinking of the little boy who didn’t fit in with his new family. “I understand him a little better, that’s all.”
On the other end, Judy groaned. “I like the sound of that even less. Danny-boy hasn’t tried anything, has he?”
“Of course not.”
Not really, anyway. Her fingers went to her lips. What would have happened had Cole not shown up when he did? Would Daniel have kissed her? Hard to believe he’d toss away their agreement for her. Or, thinking of the pile of clippings on her lap, did the money mean less to him than the thrill of sexual conquest? She didn’t know the answer any more than she understood the stirrings going on inside her.
“Maybe we’re judging him too harshly,” she suggested to Judy. “When he drops his defenses, he’s really quite…” She searched for a word that wouldn’t sound over the top. “Charming.”
“Do I need to remind you that literature is strewn with examples of men who ‘charmed’ their victims to destruction? Have you read Dracula, for example?”
“I suppose I should be grateful you’ve moved on from animal metaphors,” Charlotte said, rolling her eyes. “Daniel is not some seductive vampire out to get my life’s blood.”
“No, just a playboy used to getting women into his bed.”
“Will you stop it?” Much as she appreciated her friend’s loyalty, the condescending suggestion that she couldn’t take care of herself was getting on her nerves. “All I’m saying is the man is more complicated than he first seems to be.”
“I knew you’d say something like that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re a historian. You find subtext in everything.”
“Oh, and literature professors don’t?”
“Apples and oranges,” Judy retorted, tossing Charlotte’s remark back at her. “Admit it, you do have a tendency to romanticize.”
“Romanticize?” Judy made her sound like a moony adolescent. “Why? Because I said that David Moretti might have some depth?”
“If he has depth, it’s because your imagination put it there. You attach meaning to everything. Take that farm of yours, for instance. The whole reason you got into this mess with Moretti is because you’ve built up its significance in your life.”
“Since when is preserving my family heritage a bad thing?”
“Nothing—if preserving your heritage is all you’re trying to do.” Her voice softened. “I’m not trying to pick on you. You keep alive things the rest of the world would discard. It’s what makes you such a good historian and a sweet person. All I’m saying is, make sure what you’re trying to keep alive really existed in the first place.”
Charlotte pursed her li
ps. “Are we talking about my farm or Daniel?” she asked tersely.
“Both. Have you looked at the research file I gave you?”
“Yes, but—”
“Good. Then, charming or not, you know exactly what kind of shark this guy is.”
“I’m a big girl, Judy. I can judge a person on my own, thank you very much.”
Tired and angry, Charlotte leaned back and looked out the window. Storm clouds would soon move in, but at the moment, the moon bathed the beach in a silvery glow. The ocean, black as night, stretched endlessly before her.
On the other end of the phone, her friend asked, “You’re mad at me now, aren’t you?”
“Shouldn’t I be? You all but called me a romantic fool.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.”
“You did.” Her eyes fell to the file. Was Judy right? Was she seeing depth in places where it didn’t exist?
“Look, in the end it doesn’t matter what kind of depth I see in Daniel Moretti. Come Sunday, we’ll never cross paths again. I’ll go my way, and he’ll go his.” His lonely solitary way.
“So long as you don’t do something to get yourself hurt.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes again. “Haven’t we been through this enough times?”
“From the sound of your voice, one more time wouldn’t hurt. That file of clippings is big for a reason.”
“True.” Charlotte was only half-paying attention. Outside her window, the moon was carving a shimmery path across the ocean’s black surface. Hard to believe a storm lay close by. Maybe William was right and the hurricane, fearing Vivian’s wrath, changed paths.
A lone figure appeared on the edge of the surface. He stood looking out over the same horizon, his white shirt silver in the moonlight.
Daniel. Her pulse quickened at the sight.
“Charlotte? Hey, Charlotte, are you there?”
Hypnotized by the vision in front of her, Charlotte switched off the phone as Judy was speaking. If pressed later, she’d blame the storm. Her friend deserved the cutoff anyway.
Daniel stood straight and still on the sand, a sentry bathed in moonlight, lost in contemplation of the waves. As he remained frozen, so did she, unable to tear her eyes from his silhouette. So dark and alone. A longing she couldn’t explain rose from deep inside her. She pressed her hand to the glass, reaching out, wishing she could touch him.
I bet you taste like the ocean too. She shuddered, recalling the warmth of his breath on her face. What would he do if she joined him now? Would he be glad? Or would he close himself off the way he did whenever a connection between them seemed to form?
Suddenly, he turned and looked toward the house. Charlotte leaned back behind the curtain.
“Stop being silly,” she told herself. “He can’t see you.”
Daniel returned his attention to the surf. Her breath caught in her throat as he slowly peeled his shirt over his head, then stepped out of his slacks. The moonlight painted his bare body the color of the sand. He remained at the water’s edge studying the crashing surf for several seconds, then dove headlong into the waves and out of her view.
The beauty of his abandon took her breath away. This was the real Daniel. Without walls or defenses or attitude. Only the man, alone and uninhibited. She hugged her knees, admiration filling her chest. Emotion followed by bone-deep regret. This Daniel, she feared, was unreachable. Time and self-preservation had built his walls too thick. These tiny glimpses were all he’d ever allow.
And yet, for her, those glimpses colored everything about him.
Sadly, she tore her gaze away, back to the clippings strewn across her lap.
A shark, Judy called him, among all her other labels. Was she right? Was she seeing significance in places where it didn’t exist?
And what would Judy say if she knew that significance might be building feelings she had no business having?
Chapter Six
Daniel kicked his legs free from the coverlet. Outside, the morning sky dawned as gray and stormy as his mood. Last night’s argument with Vivian weighed heavily on his mind. How many times was he expected to fund Cole’s schemes, or rather, her schemes for Cole? Sometimes he thought life would have been easier if his father hadn’t left him a trust fund. Then Vivian would cut him out of her life entirely and he wouldn’t have these hassles.
You don’t have to have them now, a voice reminded him. You could tell her to stuff it. He had no one to blame for his continued headaches but himself.
The things we do because we need family.
The thought reminded him of Charlotte. Beautiful, windblown Charlotte and her foolish farm. There was a far bigger headache. Whatever her strategy for getting under his skin, it was working. Not only was she under his skin, she was in his system and on his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about her or obsessing over what she would feel like wrapped in his arms.
He came close to finding out last night on the beach, until Cole’s arrival brought him back to his senses. Was his obsession really worth losing seven figures’ worth of land? If he was smart, he’d release her from this whole scheme. Sell her back the land and send her packing back to Boston so he wouldn’t be tempted. But sending her home would require some kind of explanation, and he wasn’t in the mood to put up with his mother’s mocking gibes.
Or so he told himself.
Besides, Charlotte would be in his orbit for what, twenty-four more hours? He could handle himself.
Arching his back, he tried to stretch away the morning stiffness along with his thoughts. Useless. Thinking of Charlotte merely made him stiff in a far more primal way. Hell, he was hard as a rock. Just like last night’s swim. Instead of cooling his blood, her presence dogged him. It grew so bad that at one point he actually thought he could feel her eyes on him. Then again, he could feel her presence in bed with him this morning too, and she was two doors down.
Two very short doors. All he had to do was head down the hall and knock on her door.
He headed to the shower instead.
What bothered him the most, he realized, as he let hot water drench his head, wasn’t breaking their deal. Even at seven figures, the money he stood to lose was a drop in the bucket. Sure, he’d be annoyed at the loss, but what really unnerved him—what kept him from saying screw it and just taking what he wanted—was the off-kilter sensation that engulfed him when she was nearby. He wasn’t himself. He slipped, shared things he’d never shared with anyone else. For crying out loud, he’d wanted to comfort her. Since when did he want to share a close moment with anyone? That’s why he needed to be careful.
He should be grateful for his mother’s request last night. Her behavior reminded him that when push came to shove, all women wanted something. For all her empathy and sexual allure, Charlotte Doherty was no different. He needed to remember that, and keep his distance. Starting today.
…
Charlotte turned off the water and leaned her head against the cool, wet tile. The shower did little to chase away her tension. The image of Daniel standing in the surf plagued her all night. After he dove into the surf, she’d turned away from the window, ashamed of her voyeurism. Unfortunately, then she started worrying about him swimming in the storm-churned ocean alone and turned her attention back. She ended up dozing off and when she awoke, Daniel’s clothes were gone, leaving the beach empty and her neck and shoulders sore from sleeping at such an awkward angle.
She still couldn’t believe what she’d witnessed. Daniel had looked beautiful in the moonlight. When she closed her eyes, the image of his finely sculpted back came floating back and she had to clutch a fist to her stomach to keep the ache from traveling lower.
Face it, Charlotte. You’re attracted to him. It was no mystery how he managed to entice so many of the world’s beauties into his bed.
But did she really want to be a notch on his bedpost?
What bothered her more, she thought as she dried off, was that her attraction went beyond his rock-hard b
ody. It was the loneliness and pain hovering on the edge of his eyes that really did her in. The connection that appeared to rise up whenever they came together.
Of course, that connection, as Judy pointed out, could very well be all in her mind. Was she really that much of a romantic?
Pulling a blue and white sweater over her head, she surveyed her appearance. Quite nautical, she decided. Cole would be all over it. Ten to one the younger Ferncliff issued an invitation to sail today. She smoothed the prickling sensation on the back of her neck. Daniel’s brother made her uncomfortable. It must run in the family.
She’d have to make a point of avoiding him today. Too bad avoiding Daniel would be easier—because he would no doubt be avoiding her.
The dropping sensation in her stomach was hunger, not disappointment.
Giving her ponytail one final pat, she pronounced herself good for breakfast and stepped outside her room only to run into the man dominating her thoughts.
Awkward silence filled the space. Seeing him dressed didn’t erase last night’s image, especially since his clothes, a frayed dress shirt and faded jeans, called attention to the broad shoulders and narrow waist she knew lurked beneath. A flush started working its way over her skin.
She managed to squeak out a greeting. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Professor.” The shutters were clamped down tight this morning. He spoke with clipped detachment. “Sleep well?”
“Like a baby.” Except for when I was dwelling on you. “You?”
“Quite well.”
“That’s good.”
So much for small talk. The silence returned, her cue to go about her day. The only problem was, her feet didn’t want to move. Her tongue did, however. “You took off so abruptly last evening, I never got a chance to say good night.”
Weekend Agreement Page 7
