Chapter Two
TWO MONTHS LATER
Mayson changed the resolution on her computer screen, amping up a sepia wash that bathed the image before her in a warm glow. She sat back with a satisfied smile and rubbed a kink out of her neck. The color had done exactly what she’d hoped, slightly dulling the photo’s background while adding an ethereal glow to the actress staring back from the screen. The actress’s pose, one of over five hundred they’d captured, reminded her of lazy mornings spent in bed with a lover, which only served to send her mind straight back to the one person she’d diligently avoided thinking of since her sister’s wedding.
Holt.
Without the slightest effort, sense memories assailed her. She felt the heavy pads of his fingers as he ran the tips of them down her spine. Felt those same fingers curl around her hip before drifting lower to cup the heat between her thighs.
No matter how many times she tried to pull herself back—to remind herself it was a moment in time and nothing more—the slightest thing had her mind racing back to those long hours before dawn she’d shared with Holt.
“Are you all right?”
Keira rushed across Mayson’s office like the carpet was on fire, snapping Mayson from the image of Holt’s arms.
“I’m fine.” She made a point to glance back at her oversized computer screen before looking up again. “Why?”
“You look awfully pale.”
“Just because you’re still gloriously tanned from two weeks in Tahiti followed by weekends at your beach house doesn’t mean the rest of us should be mocked for it.”
Her stomach did bother her, Mayson acknowledged to herself, now that she’d been fully dragged back into the here and now. She ignored the slight upset and vowed to cut back on the coffee. Her third cup had already gone cold at her elbow and she thought better of taking a sip.
“But are you sure you’re all right?”
“Keira, I’m fine. Really. It’s just been a busy couple weeks.” She pointed to the layout on her screen. “Take a look, though. The work’s been incredible lately.”
Her sister walked around the desk and Mayson flipped from the image she’d been toying with to the one they’d chosen for the cover. They’d managed to land the hottest starlet in Hollywood for the cover of their women’s magazine, and the photographer’s work on the shoot had been inspired.
“What is she dressed in?”
“Body paint.” Mayson pointed out some fine detail on the photo. “But unlike everyone else who has ever done body paint, she’s blended into a live-action background that changes. We’ve got a video we’re matching up to it with the issue online and on tablets.”
“It’s gorgeous.”
“Her publicist thinks so, too, and already has the cover leaked to the morning programs. This one’s going to fly off the shelves.”
Keira gave her a quick hug. “Beautiful work. And further evidence of why you are our head of design. You’ve got the eye, little sister.”
Mayson sat back in her chair and offered up a triumphant smile. “Thanks.”
“What else have you been working on?”
A quick glance at her calendar open beside her had her groaning as she pointed. “Take a look.”
“That’s impressive. Although, I don’t know why you bother to write it down. It’s all up here.” Keira tapped against her forehead.
“I like to be prepared.”
Keira followed the touch with a quick kiss. “I know. I also know you’ve been working way too hard lately.”
“I like what I’m doing.”
The words were out—part defense, part truth—and Mayson reached for her computer screen to turn it back around. The move kept her hands busy and her eyes averted, and she hoped it would be enough to get Keira to drop the subject.
“It doesn’t mean you don’t need rest now and again.”
Mayson sighed, wondering why she ever thought her pit bull sister would drop anything. Instead, she offered up a quick smile and a lot of cheeky attitude. “What’s the matter? You afraid I’m eyeing the CEO’s seat?”
“Like I could tear you away from your photos and layouts for that to happen.”
“You never know.”
A knock at the door had them both turning, and Mayson was secretly grateful for the interruption of her other sister, Camryn. “Come in. Please. Our all-business-all-the-time CEO is giving me a hard time.”
“I thought vacation was supposed to chill you out,” Camryn, their middle sister and McBride’s CFO, said dryly as she crossed the room.
Mayson’s gaze caught immediately on her sister’s four-inch heels, and she was up and around her desk, bending down to admire Camryn’s latest acquisition. “I like these. Can I try them on?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because if you try them on you’ll like them, and next time you’re at my place you’ll conveniently borrow them, and then you’ll never give them back.”
Mayson stood up, her hands immediately going to her hips. “I never do that.”
“Oh no?” Camryn’s gaze shot to the carpet, in the vicinity of Mayson’s feet, and Mayson began to back away at her sister’s intense stare. “What about those?”
“These are mine.”
“Well, those Jimmy Choos started out as mine.”
“They’re my favorites.”
“They were my favorites. Now I’ve got new favorites.” Camryn dropped into a guest chair and lifted her legs in a move that would make a few Rockettes jealous. “And I’m not sharing.”
“Ladies, ladies. Are we done?” Keira took the chair next to Camryn’s. “I’ve got a few things I want to go over.”
“Seriously,” Camryn said. “Aren’t you a newlywed? A state that includes daily and nightly sex? Doesn’t that relax you, even a little?”
“Yes, it includes a lot of sex.” Keira giggled as a light blush stole over her face. “But we still have a business to run.”
“Ah, there’s the CEO we know and love.” Mayson dropped back into her chair. “Besides, the company’s been running just fine.”
“As I knew it would. But what sort of ass kickers would we be if we rested on our laurels?”
“Bad ones,” Mayson and Camryn chimed in unison.
“Exactly.”
“I do have one question.” Camryn spoke first. “I’m not opposed to hard work in the least, but how is it we’re working harder than ever before? I mean, Keira went and married our takeover threat. Do we get any breaks?”
Mayson leaned forward over her desk. “Cam’s got a good point. Maybe we can relax from breakneck to break a nail?”
Keira’s smile was wide and held the distinct notes of pleasantly smug. “An excellent suggestion.”
“How so?”
“Nathan and I are throwing a weekend party, and you two are on the top of my guest list.”
“Where?”
“At his home in Newport.”
“Don’t you mean your home?” Mayson couldn’t resist the quick taunt, gratified to see Keira’s light blush.
“Ours. Ours. Ours.” Keira smacked her forehead lightly. “Why do I keep forgetting that?”
Camryn cupped her mouth and offered up a stage whisper. “It’s all the sex.”
Mayson nodded, her errant thoughts tripping straight toward her night with Holt. “It scrambles the brain.”
“You two can just be quiet.”
“Why would we want to do that?” Mayson eyed her cell phone where it buzzed silently on her desk. The readout let her know it was a board member from Hands, Hearts and Hugs, and she silently prayed for good news. “It’s so fun to see you so flustered.”
“I’ve got the car scheduled to pick you both up on Friday at noon.”
“She’s giving us a half day off?” Camryn dropped the stage whisper but maintained the note of fun. “The sex really has scrambled her brain.”
…
Holt skimmed through emails on his tablet as the conference call droned on in his ear. He’d already presented his recommendation on a piece of property, and the ensuing bickering—veiled as “strategic discussion”--his clients were playing at was of little interest.
The pissing contest between executive staff and the board was the last hurdle to overcome before they ponied up the half-billion dollar commitment the hotel and entertainment facility was going to run them. Since it was projected to make that back in about three years, he knew the “discussion” was only a formality.
He continued to half-listen as he worked through his inbox, and his gaze caught on an email from Nathan. The note was quick and succinct—the opposite of the call he was on, Holt thought with a smile—inviting him to Nathan and Keira’s weekend house for a party. A litany of excuses rose up, and he almost hit reply with the intent to say no when an image filled his mind’s eye of dark, vivid brown eyes.
Elizabeth.
He’d thought about her far more than was comfortable since Nathan’s wedding. He’d even gone so far as to casually ask Nathan about her when they’d met for their standing monthly cocktail after his friend returned from his honeymoon, but the name hadn’t registered. Unwilling to press the issue too hard, he’d let it drop, but the lack of information only deepened the mystery.
The swift knock at his door pulled him from his wedding-weekend musings, a direct reminder that he had work to do. He muted the call and shouted for his assistant to come in. He knew immediately by the pinched look around her mouth that his unpleasant afternoon wasn’t about to get any better. “What is it, Gloria?”
“A woman is here to see you. She won’t tell me who she is, but is insistent you know her.”
“Her name?”
“Eloisa Westmoreland.”
“Please send her in.”
If Gloria questioned the directive, he’d never know it by her impassive face.
“Of course.”
Holt gave his desk a quick glance as his heart kicked into overdrive. Other than the slim laptop and his tablet, there was nothing on the desk besides a closed file folder. He wouldn’t put it past her to rifle through it when he wasn’t looking. And damn it all to hell, he hated that his mother had the power to do this to him. Hated that the mere mention of her name riled him up while ruining every good feeling inside of him.
The door opened, as if punctuating his thoughts, and then he was face to face with his mother for the first time in a year. He held up a finger and pointed toward the phone, then gestured for her to take a seat. A quick note of curiosity stamped itself across her elegant features, but she nodded, looking for all the world like a doting mother come to see her son.
He watched her surreptitiously from his desk as the call wound down. She was still attractive—stunning, really. Tall and slender, she maintained a regal carriage and a heartbreakingly beautiful face that looked like she walked off a movie set. Eloisa Turner, later Blackstone and now Westmoreland, knew how to accentuate, flaunt, and present every asset she possessed.
After closing the call, he stood and crossed to his mother. Her bright smile and outstretched arms added to the illusion of the doting mother. “Holt, Darling.”
“Eloisa.”
“You no longer wish to call me Mom?”
“I haven’t wished to call you that for many years now, as you well know.”
A small pout crossed his mother’s lips before she pulled it back. They’d gone enough rounds through the years that she’d learned her usual tactics employed on others—the poor, whimpering, female act—would get her nowhere with him. “I’m sure you know why I’m here.”
“I’m sure I don’t.”
“I need money.”
“Another subject you know my feelings on.”
“Yes, but this is different. I really need some help.”
He held back the sigh, unwilling to give any indication of how tedious he found this conversation. “What could you possibly need help with now?”
“My husband has lost interest.”
“It was only a matter of time.” The words were harsh and unkind, and his gaze locked on the view out his expansive windows as he waited for his mother’s answer.
“Be that as it may, I’m in a pinch and need money.”
“Find it somewhere else.”
“It’s only for a short while.” She snapped out the retort, her delicate features as greedy and full of avarice as ever. “You know I’m good for it.”
“No, in fact I don’t know that. I have no interest in bankrolling something illegal, which is, no doubt, what you’re up to.”
“My investments are none of your business.”
A harsh laugh escaped his lips, and he fought to keep his emotions in check. She thrived on conflict and drama, and he’d never known anyone better able to zero in on another’s weakness. “Is that what you’re calling them now?”
“Just because you and I have never seen eye to eye on our work ethic doesn’t mean I don’t have one.”
“I’m well aware of yours. Do the least possible for the most gain. If gotten through illegal means, all the better.”
“You like to think you’re above it all, Holt.” She pointed as she turned in a circle around his well-appointed office. “Like somehow because you’ve made something of yourself it washes away what you did.”
Helpless waves of frustration washed over him, and, once more, he forced an icy veneer of calm over those raging emotions. “Rewrite history all you want. I was there and I know what happened. I was a child forced to steal for you.”
His mother’s own calm, cool veneer cracked, the signs of her age showing in the slender lines that wrapped the corners of her mouth. “Are you so sure others will see it that way? A few well-placed calls and I can ruin you.”
“And why would you want to slay the golden goose, Eloisa? I’m far more valuable to you if I’m successful than if I’m poor. You know that better than anyone.”
“Look. I need your help.”
“What do you need?”
“A hundred thousand.”
“No.” He should have been surprised at the sum, but it was actually less than he’d anticipated. Was it possible she’d narrowed her focus and was aiming for smaller cons?
“Why not?”
He sighed, the reality of their relationship an endless disappointment. He’d spent his youth believing that someday he’d get far enough away from her that she’d never find him, but the exact opposite had happened. She knew exactly where to show up, each and every time she wanted something. “I’m not fronting whatever scam you’ve got going.”
“It’s not a scam. It’s a legitimate business opportunity.”
“Save the sales pitch for your next mark. I’m not playing that game. I will give you tickets and a week’s paid expenses to your favorite villa in Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat to get you the hell out of my hair.”
“Thank you, my darling.” Eloisa picked up her bag and didn’t bother with the pretense of a kiss. He watched her flounce across his office and called to her just as she reached the door.
“I’ll have armed security at the villa. See to it you don’t accidentally walk off with anything.”
His mother did turn at that, her eyes narrowed. “You’re so untrusting.”
“You were an outstanding teacher.” He extended a hand toward the door, then turned and walked back toward his desk, effectively dismissing her.
“You really think you’re so far above this?”
He did turn at that, surprised at how little regard she had for maintaining the pretense of maternal love. “You need this, the rush. The feeling of power. The thrill of the chase. You need this, and it makes you just like me.”
“I’m nothing like you.”
“So you think, but that’s because you’ve never experienced loss.”
“Would you prefer to stay in New York for the next week? I don’t need to front your vacation.”
“Just remember what I said. Things can be taken away, Holt. Things you didn’t even realize you cared for. You’ll care when they’re gone.”
She swept through the door, like a storm that had done its damage and then moved on to its next landfall. Holt cursed himself for giving her the week on the French Riviera, but at least he could have his people keep an eye on her. It would also give him some time to dig into her latest scam so he could try and put a stop to it.
He dropped into his chair and not for the first time wondered where he’d come from, and just how much of her might have rubbed off on him. His gaze caught on the open email from Nathan, and he tapped out a quick acceptance.
There was a mountain of work, and he’d just added investigating his mother’s latest dirty deed to his to-do list, but the urge to go to the party was strong. Even stronger was his curiosity about the guest list. If a certain woman with chocolate eyes, a temptress’s body, and a bright, fiery smile was at the party, he knew he’d consider it time well-spent.
Maybe once he knew who she was, he could put these idiotic memories to bed once and for all.
…
Mayson stumbled out of the car and ran toward the back door of Keira and Nathan’s summer house, grateful no one was nearby to see her practically lose her lunch. Why she had thought a bag of fast food was the answer to raging hunger pangs, she had no idea, but the half-pound burger, fries, and milkshake had seemed like the right idea halfway through Connecticut.
“Are you all right?”
Camryn ran up to her and grabbed the heavy bag from her arms as Mayson laid a hand against the back wall of the house to support herself.
“I’m fine.”
“You look sick.”
“I’m fine. Really. I just didn’t need that milkshake. Or the fries. Or the burger.” Her stomach rumbled once more and a cool bead of sweat rolled down the back of her neck.
“Mayson, you look horrible.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll lay down and remind myself that I need to quit attempting to eat like a seven-year-old.”
A small smile twitched at the edges of Camryn’s lips. “You actually ate like a truck driver. I’ve never seen you devour food so fast.”
“I was hungry.”
“Well stop skipping breakfast.”
The urge to argue rose up, but she held back. She had eaten breakfast—a large plate of bacon and eggs from the company cafeteria, along with a bagel.
“Do you feel well enough to go in?”
“Yeah.” The nausea was already fading, and she felt steadier on her feet. “I do.”
“Go inside and rest for a few minutes. I’ll get your stuff and bring you a cold soda.”
“Thanks.”
Camryn dropped a quick kiss on her cheek. “You’re welcome.”
A half hour later, she was still on the large bed in the guest room, staring at the ceiling. Her thoughts flitted briefly to her wild night of passion, as she’d fondly begun to think of it. Unfortunately, those same thoughts kept going to a place she wasn’t interested in even thinking about for fear thinking about it would make it true.
There was no way she was pregnant. They’d used condoms and she was on the pill.
Even if she had forgotten said pill for about a week leading up to the wedding because she’d been in Europe on a photo shoot and the time difference had her all messed up and she hated taking the damn things because she didn’t have a whole lot of use for them on a regular basis seeing as how she wasn’t actively having sex.
Now that the nausea had passed, the worry that there was something wrong faded and all she felt was bored. She never had been all that regular, which was the primary reason for the pill. And despite taking it since she was a teenager for regularity, her frequent forgetfulness had ensured she’d never really stayed on track.
You can mentally keep track of your calendar across several time zones, countries, and business commitments, but one little pill every day and you turn into a flighty teenager.
With a quick glance around the room, she admonished herself to relax. The anxiety was just an after-effect of indulging with Holt. She’d never been a big one-night-stand sort of girl—had often envied her friends who were—but despite her casual approach to the night, it had meant something, for reasons she couldn’t quite explain.
Holt had meant something.
And it was too late to do anything about it. Her efforts to keep it light and casual had fallen to pieces in the emotional maelstrom that wouldn’t quite let her go, and she now had to make the best of the situation.
Shaking it off, she allowed her gaze to travel around the room, taking in the beautiful décor—contemporary and modern with a pleasant, welcoming warmth—before landing on her bag, sitting where Camryn had left it near the door. She’d grabbed her camera on impulse just as she was leaving that morning and was suddenly glad she did. The bright windows of her room beckoned and she started there, snapping some photos of the expansive backyard that stretched to the beach.
Maybe they could use the grounds for an upcoming photo shoot. Keira was a softie about that sort of thing, and the beautiful house would make a magnificent backdrop. Mayson was already mentally rolling through her upcoming projects for what might be a fit.
She passed through a large dining room on her way out back and saw a large spread of cheese and crackers and crudités. She nearly piled up a plate, but stopped herself with a quick admonishment.
Learn nothing on the ride up?
Focusing on the back door and the distant sound of waves, she did snatch a square of Gouda to tide her over until dinner. A series of heavenly smells greeted her as she stepped onto the back porch. She turned in the direction of the aroma and saw another large porch on the far side of the house. An army of caterers manned tables, a barbeque pit and a large grill, and she could already see the makings of a Friday night barbeque in the works.
Keira flitted around the far end of the dinner production. She couldn’t hear her, and Mayson didn’t want to bother her while in the middle of talking to the caterers, so she lifted her camera for a few shots instead. As she lined up her sister in her viewfinder, she saw in vivid detail just how happy she was.
Keira and Nathan’s romance had been rather tumultuous and fraught with challenges, but they’d come out the other side and found love. Nathan had been bound and determined to take over McBride Media and all she and her sisters had worked to build. Yet with love and the right partner, he’d seen a better path. One that would carry him—and her sister—to their future.
Mayson snapped a few more shots, then dropped the camera and brushed at the corner of her eyes. Tears? God, she had to get a grip. Even if she knew that had become an increasingly impossible task of late. Wildly swinging emotions had accompanied her for the last month, her traitorous mind focused too often on the image of broad shoulders.
She could even still feel the imprint of his smile against her lips.
Holt.
As another tear slipped from the corner of her eye, she pulled herself from her reverie and let out a hard sigh. She was out for a fun weekend and she was going to enjoy herself. With a quick dash at the last tear, she headed for the beach.
Lush grass flattened under her flip-flops and she focused on the cool texture against her feet to take her mind off her maudlin musings. A tennis court was visible in the distance and she lined up the shot, her artist’s eye pleased with the contrast of the red clay court and the waning gold color of late afternoon. She took the images from several angles and, satisfied with the shots, moved on.
The sounds of the beach grew louder and she gravitated toward it like a compass needle to true north. Wind whipped her hair and she turned slightly to catch the breeze so that it blew the strands away from her face. It was as she turned that the man came into view. He stood down on the beach, his white shirt rolled up at the sleeves and his khakis wet at the bottom from the surf.
Her artist’s eye assessed the shot.
The solitary figure. The hard crash of the incoming waves. The vivid streaks of color across the late afternoon sky.
Without conscious thought, she lifted her camera and lined up the shot. As she focused on the man through the viewfinder, something about that solitary figure tugged at her heart.
He looked so alone.
And lonely.
She took a few photos before she stopped, sensing his movement before he actually turned. And it was only when he did turn, the sun shining warmly over the dark blond strands of his hair, that she knew.