Come Up and See Me Sometime

by Lucy Monroe

  So far he'd informed her that he was gainfully employed, liked her favorite country singer, and agreed that families should vacation together. Last night he'd had the nerve to inform her that she found him attractive. She hadn't been able to deny his words and had ended up demanding to know if the feeling was mutual. He'd laughed and reminded her what happened every time they kissed. Alex laughing was one of those rare pleasures in life a woman couldn't take for granted.

  "Here you are, miss."

  She slipped off her own shoes and tried on the pumps. They fit perfectly. She stood up and admired the way they shaped her feet. Taking an experimental step, she considered her problem.

  Alex.

  He wanted to marry her, but why? The question gnawed at her. He said he wanted her, but that wasn't enough reason to marry a woman. Not in today's age. Never mind that Isabel wouldn't have an affair with him. He hadn't even tried, and the way she responded to his touch should have led him to believe it was at least a possibility.

  And maybe, just maybe … it was.

  He hadn't said anything about love. She had to admit that if he had, she would have thought he was even more insane. The problem was, she didn't think that particular emotion was in his plans for the future, either. He had been appalled that she might expect a little romance like a genuine proposal. She might be looking for a husband with something as pragmatic as a list of job requirements, but that didn't mean she wanted him to treat marriage like a business deed.

  She hadn't thought of that potential pitfall when contemplating the brilliant idea of making her list, but then she'd never expected one of her dates to read it and claim it as an implied contract, either.

  "Are you all right, miss?" the shoe salesman asked.

  Her attention snapped back to him, the shoes, and what she was doing in the mall. She smiled. "Yes, I'm fine. I don't think I'll take the shoes, though."

  Even a pair of perfectly fitting, absolutely gorgeous shoes could not dispel the melancholy her situation had elicited in her. Not when she very much feared that she was falling in love with Alex, a man too hard to be affected by such a soft emotion. A man, moreover, who had decided he wanted to marry her for reasons she couldn't even begin to understand.

  * * *

  A lovely woman, Priscilla Trahern lived in a beautiful home. Isabel hadn't missed the fact that the single-story white house with neatly manicured flowerbeds was in a gated community. Alex's influence, no doubt. Isabel had liked Alex's mother the moment he introduced them. Priscilla had a kind smile and a motherly air, though she dressed and held herself with elegant aplomb. She reminded Isabel of Nancy Reagan in pastel.

  Lunch could have been awkward. In feet, Isabel had been more than mildly concerned about it. She feared that at the first gentle probe from his mother regarding the state of their relationship, Alex would announce a forthcoming marriage. Thankfully, the probe never came.

  Priscilla guided the conversation along interesting but hardly intimate channels throughout the meal. When it was over, she surprised Isabel by instructing Alex to clear the table and inviting Isabel to join her in the living room.

  As they left the dining room, Priscilla said, 'Just leave the dishes in the sink, Alex."

  Priscilla turned to Isabel as they entered a graceful room done in shades of seafoam green and cream. "My housekeeper prefers that I don't attempt to load the dishwasher. She's got her own method and she doesn't want my interference."

  "I understand." Isabel sat down on a Queen Anne-style chair with moiré upholstery, crossing her ankles. "Nanny Number Seven was the same way. She said that when I tried to help by loading the dishwasher for her, I ended up making more work because she had to unload it, start all over, and load it again."

  Priscilla's soft gray eyes widened. "Nanny Number Seven? What an unusual way to refer to someone."

  Isabel felt her face heat. She probably sounded terribly rude, referring to the woman that way. She usually only did so in her head. It was a measure of how comfortable Priscilla had made Isabel feel that she had slipped and made the comment out loud. "Her name was Anne. She wasn't really my nanny."

  Isabel had referred to her as a nanny with a number to protect herself from getting too emotionally involved with Anne, who had been both kind and caring to Isabel.

  "Dad said that I no longer needed a caregiver when I turned twelve. I guess he was trying to make me feel more grown up." Only she hadn't felt grown up. She'd felt abandoned. Until her dad hired Anne. "She was our housekeeper."

  "I see." Priscilla's face mirrored sympathetic understanding.

  "I started referring to the nannies by a number in my head after the second one left. It was my way of keeping them at a distance so it wouldn't hurt so much when they were gone. It wasn't easy for them working for my father," she said by way of explanation.

  In a gesture that both startled and comforted her, Priscilla reached out and touched Isabel's hand. "We do what we can to protect our hearts when they've been hurt too much."

  Remembering that Alex had said his father died, Isabel believed Priscilla truly did understand. She wondered what the older woman had done to protect her heart.

  "It doesn't always work," Isabel said, remembering the wrenching pain when her dad had replaced Anne.

  The housekeeper had argued with him one too many times over his neglect of Isabel. Rather than spend more time with his daughter and shut Anne up, he had replaced her with someone else.

  Unable to cope with another loss, Isabel had held herself at a complete emotional distance from the next housekeeper, Bonnie. In a twist of fate that Isabel had never understood, that housekeeper still worked for her father. Isabel had often wondered if it was simply her destiny to lose the people she allowed herself to love.

  "No, it doesn't," replied Priscilla, a wealth of understanding and residual pain in her eyes. "Loving others is always a risk."

  Isabel agreed. A risk she hadn't meant to take when it came to marriage. Her list of requirements had seemed safer than an emotional entanglement. There were so many ways a marriage could end. Priscilla was the living example that it didn't always have to be in divorce.

  But now that her emotions were getting more and more entangled with Alex, she wanted him to respond on the same level, not to keep quoting her list like each item was a point in a negotiation toward settlement.

  Priscilla must have read something on Isabel's face because she leaned forward and squeezed Isabel's hand again. "Loving can bring pain, a great deal of pain, but it can also bring joy that outweighs that pain. Don't be afraid to love."

  Isabel couldn't believe that she and Alex's coolly elegant mother were having such a personal conversation, and yet she was glad in a way. Since Anne, Isabel had not confided the hidden parts of her heart to anyone, not even Bettina.

  "Was loving your husband worth the pain of losing him?"

  Priscilla leaned back and sighed. "Yes, but I didn't accept that until very recently. I was so angry with Ray for neglecting me and Alex for his work that when he died that anger grew into bitterness."

  "What changed?"

  "Me. I changed inside. I finally forgave Ray for his neglect and for dying before we could fix our marriage."

  Looking at the peace that now filled Priscilla's expression, Isabel didn't doubt the veracity of her words. Hadn't Isabel realized long ago that the only answer to the pain of her dad's neglect was forgiveness? But would that work for the future? Could she risk loving a husband, knowing that he might hurt her as her father had done?

  "What's going on in here? You two look like you're solving the crisis in the Middle East."

  Alex's voice jolted Isabel from her emotional thoughts.

  "Your young lady and I were just getting to know each other better, Alex. It is a mother's prerogative," Priscilla replied.

  Alex smiled, genuine warmth lighting his eyes as he looked down at his mother. "And you like what you've gotten to know?"

  Isabel couldn't believe he would put his
mother on the spot like that. "She's hardly had enough time to make a judgment about me one way or the other," she inserted before Priscilla could answer.

  Priscilla laughed. It was a gentle sound, in perfect accord with Priscilla's proper behavior and yet genuine. "On the contrary, Isabel. I believe I can answer my son's question without reservation. You are a lovely young woman, and I would like nothing more than to know that my son was seeing a great deal of you."

  Touched, Isabel said quietly, "Thank you."

  Priscilla smiled and nodded, seeming to comprehend the wealth of emotion behind the simple words.

  Isabel turned to see Alex's reaction to his mother's words and was not surprised at the look of complacent satisfaction on his face. He knew what he wanted. She just wished she understood why he was so sure it was her.

  * * *

  Isabel had been silent for most of the drive home from his mother's house. What was she thinking? He'd like to know what she and his mother had been talking about while he cleared the table. They had been so somber when he joined them in the living room. At first, he'd been afraid that his mother had told Isabel about Hypertron's role in his dad's death. But Isabel hadn't seemed angry or accusatory, just thoughtful.

  Alex hoped she didn't have any plans this evening. They needed to spend more time together. She wasn't going to agree to marry him until she trusted him. The only way he could think of to cement that trust was to spend time together. Besides, visiting with his mom had been very nice, but each casual touch from Isabel sent his hormones into overdrive.

  He wanted to touch her.

  He wanted to hold her.

  He wanted more, but he didn't think she was ready.

  Then again, maybe that was the key to getting her trust. Would she continue to withhold her trust from a man to whom she had given her body?

  Pulling into the parking spot in front of Isabel's condo, he turned off the Aston Martin and waited. Would she invite him in, or would he have to come up with an excuse to follow her inside?

  She unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door but didn't get out. Her silky honey-brown hair swung against her shoulders as she turned toward him and fixed him with her emerald gaze. "Would you like to come in for a while?"

  He'd like to come in for all night, but he would settle for what he could get. "Yes."

  She nodded and slid out of the car. Following her into her apartment, he enjoyed the feminine sway of her hips in the long sarong-style skirt she wore. Her top molded the soft curves of her upper body, and he wanted to reach out and brush the gentle indentation of her waist.

  She stopped to light some sweet-smelling candles on her way into the living room. The action was so automatic, he didn't think she was attempting to set the mood. Too bad. She then turned on the stereo and the soft chords of Tim McGraw singing a love song with his wife, Faith Hill, filled the room. The song was about a man and his woman making love.

  He doubted Isabel was even aware of the lyrics. She seemed preoccupied. He wished she'd chosen a different CD because the lyrics were all too real to him. The husky tones in the singers' voices, combined with the words they sang, were a powerful reminder of the night he'd had dinner here with Isabel and the way she'd come apart in his arms.

  He'd felt like a real knight in pulling back from taking her so soon, but now he was starting to think he'd just been an idiot. Women didn't want chivalrous men anymore. They wanted to make up their own minds about things like whether they got swept away by passion. Remembering the grateful look in her beautiful green eyes when she'd realized what he'd stopped them from doing didn't sit well with his new theory, so he tried to squelch it.

  He watched her flutter aimlessly about the room and considered helping her to find a place to light. Preferably him. That white leather sofa had distinct possibilities.

  "I guess it's my turn."

  They weren't the words he was hoping for, so it took Alex a minute to realize what she'd said. When he tried, he still didn't get her meaning, so he asked, "What's your turn?"

  She shifted her shoulders and sighed before turning to face him. She looked even more somber than she had while talking to his mom earlier. He wanted to fix whatever was bothering her.

  "It's my turn to invite you to meet my father, only I can't promise he'll show up for dinner or anything else, for that matter. He has deplorable work habits."

  Alex wasn't ready to explain to Isabel yet about what had happened between his father and Hypertron. He hadn't been all that surprised that she'd shown no awareness of it. The lawsuit had never made it to the papers. Her dad was as fanatical about secrecy as Alex was. Alex had wondered why John Harrison hadn't told his daughter about it. L earning about the distance in their relationship had cleared that up for him.

  And Alex couldn't say he was sorry. If Isabel had known about his father's relationship to Hypertron and what had happened because of it, she would never have gone on that first date, much less let herself melt in his arms. "Don't sweat it."

  She frowned, cute little creases forming between her eyes. "That's easy for you to say. You didn't have to worry about your mother calling at the last minute to cancel today, or worse—not bothering to call or show up."

  Suddenly, disconcertingly, tears stood out in her eyes, and Alex wanted more than anything to prevent them from falling.

  He took a step toward her. "It's not important, honey. What we have together is all that matters."

  She blinked back her tears, but her eyes and long lashes remained moist. "Then why bother having me meet your mother?"

  "Because I knew you two would like each other and she's a big part of my life." He could have bitten his tongue after uttering the last part of that sentence. He didn't mean to remind her of Harrison's lack of interest in her life.

  "I guess you think that it isn't important to me for you to meet my dad because we aren't that close, but you're wrong. It's very important to me." This time the tears spilled over.

  Alex groaned. "Don't cry. Please, Isabel. I can't stand it." He reached out and drew her into the circle of his arms. He held her, not because he wanted her, although he did. He held her because she needed comfort and he needed to comfort her. The last time he'd felt this way was with his mom on the day his father died. "We'll make it work, sweetheart."

  She shook her head against his chest. "No, we won't. We can't do anything. No matter what we plan he'll put the company first. I knew Bettina almost two years before she ever met my dad," Isabel said, her voice filled with misery.

  Damn. What was he supposed to do now? Alex had very little experience with tears, and he felt completely out of his depth. "Stop crying, sweetheart. We'll find a way."

  Why the hell was he promising to try to do something he wanted less than a root canal?

  "Your mother is wonderful." Isabel took a shuddering, tear-filled breath. "She's kind and I liked meeting her."

  Alex could pretty much guarantee he would not enjoy meeting Isabel's father. "I'll meet your dad at the wedding."

  He'd meant to make a joke out of it, to maybe even shock Isabel into an angry retort about how she hadn't promised to marry him yet. Anything to stop her crying. Only it didn't work that way. Her tears increased and she tried to pull out of his arms, but he wasn't letting go.

  "Haven't you been listening to me?" She pounded against his chest as if her father's inconsistency was Alex's fault. He didn't mind because at least she wasn't crying so heavily now. She was just mad. "I've been planning on walking myself down the aisle since I was thirteen years old, and my dad missed my eighth grade graduation."

  Alex swore out loud. John Harrison was a bastard and deserved to lose his company for more than what he'd done to Ray Trahern. For Harrison, Hypertron had always come first—even over his only daughter. No wonder Isabel was so worried about work habits in her potential husband.

  "I don't care if I ever meet your father." Life would be a lot simpler if he never had to come face-to-face with John Harrison in Isabel's presence.


  Taking a deep breath, Isabel pushed against Alex's restraining hold. He reluctantly let her go. Her face was set in lines of determination. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and tucked her hair behind her ears.

  "I'm not promising a wedding here, Alex, but you're an important person in my life, and I care whether you meet my dad. This time I'm going to see to it."

  Alex doubted even Harrison's selfish work habits could stand against the determination in Isabel's eyes. How long did he have before he would be forced to tell her about his father's experience with Hypertron? Could he tell her without her suspecting his need for vengeance?

  She walked over to the phone, picked it up, and dialed.

  Who was she calling?

  "Bonnie, this is Isabel. Is Dad home?" She waited a moment while Bonnie responded. "May I speak to him, please?"

  Alex felt emotions swirl through him as he faced the reality of what Isabel was doing. Maybe her father wouldn't be available. His hope died a quick death when she spoke again.

  "Hello, Dad. I've got someone I'd like you to meet. Are you going to be home for a little while?"

  The look of disappointment on Isabel's face should have made Alex feel guilty, but his relief didn't leave any room.

  She narrowed her eyes and squared her shoulders. "It will have to wait. Alex and I will be there in twenty minutes."

  Isabel shook her head at whatever her dad was saying on the other end. "Let me put it to you this way. If you aren't home when I get there with Alex, I'm going to find an irresistible new job for the senior design engineer on the Borland Project."

  Isabel hung up the phone, cutting off a tirade that Alex could hear across the room. She smiled at Alex.

  "The Borland Project is very important to Hypertron right now."

  Alex knew that. It was the project he and his associates hoped would be late coming to market, the final piece in the matrix surrounding his vengeance against Harrison. "So you threatened him with it."

  Isabel's eyes sparkled, and Alex could tell she was pleased with herself. "I've never taken that approach before. Shall we see if it works? It might be fun to find my dad waiting docilely for our arrival."