A Family Affair: The Wish: Truth in Lies, Book 9 (4 page)

His mouth stilled and he pulled back so he could look at her face. “Bree?”

“Make love to me,” she repeated, lifted a hand and stroked his cheek. “Please?”

He caught her hand, stilled it. “Promise you won’t regret it.”

“I promise.”
I will absolutely not regret a moment of this night
.

His gaze clouded, filled with need as he scooped her into his arms and carried her across the room toward the bed and a night of passion and pleasure.

B
ree rolled over and stretched
, flung her arms wide, and yawned. The girls would stampede in soon, pounce on the bed, and beg for breakfast. What would it be today? French toast? Waffles? Peanut butter and bananas? Whose turn was it to pick? Bree couldn’t think what with her right temple pounding like it was about to split open. She hadn’t had a headache like this since the night of the funeral when she downed three shots of Wild Turkey with her daddy and he had to drive her home.

She’d never been much of a drinker… Visions of red wine and a handsome blond man flashed before her. Good Lord, and gracious, no! Bree jerked her eyes open and glanced at the right side of the king-size bed. Empty. Her gaze skittered to the pillow and the indentation, zeroed in on two strands of blond hair. Adam had spent the night! Here…in this bed…next to her. Good Lord, they’d had sex! But why couldn’t she remember any of it? Well, she did remember the scorcher kisses and the burn in his gaze like he wanted to devour her faster than a slice of pecan pie…and she absolutely remembered him carrying her to the bed…easing down beside her…

Bree flung back the covers and gasped. Lordy, all she had on was a thin scrap of pink her mother said shouldn’t be classified as underwear. No top, just bare breasts. The sight of her nakedness and thoughts of the sex she couldn’t remember made her headache spread from her right temple to her left. This was so much worse than disastrous. She darted a gaze around the room, spotted what could be the rest of her clothes folded nice and neat on the sofa beside her purse. Her high heels had been lined up next to one another on the floor near the sofa. Where was Adam?

What had she done?

She’d had sex with an almost stranger and she didn’t even know his last name. He’d tried to warn her, told her she’d had too much to drink, said she’d regret her decision in the morning, and what had she gone and done? Ignored him, teased him into the room, and demanded a kiss that she dang well knew would not stop at one kiss. Shame on her. She’d criticized Natalie Servetti as a woman of loose morals and no self-respect who went after any man and every man.

Bree was no better. She’d practically forced the man to have sex with her and forget letting him act like a gentleman and say goodnight. Talk about a hussy. Oh, she’d called it making love, but it was
s-e-x
, because what else do you call it when you don’t know the man’s last name? But why, oh, why could she not remember any of it? Not the undressing part, not a flash of naked skin, and heavens, not the feel of him inside her. How could she not remember
that
?

Her brain would not settle down, conjuring up all sorts of possibilities as to what she’d actually done and why she’d done it, and not a single one of the possibilities was flattering.

Maybe she’d been so desperate for a man’s touch that she’d been willing to do whatever it took to get it. Or maybe she’d wanted to see if she could control a man with sex like some women did. The thought of how low she might have gone was worse than disgusting. No wonder the man took off without a “See you later” or “It’s been nice.”

“What have I done?” The tears started seconds later, great gulping sobs ripping through her.
“What have I done?”
She sat cross-legged on the bed, crying and cursing her poor choices, from the dead cheater husband to the one-night-stand stranger. Would she never learn? At least this mess happened in a city full of strangers, including the one she slept with, and not Magdalena, the town that knew everybody and everybody’s business.

When she’d finished her cry, she came up with a plan. Get out of Chicago as fast as she could and pretend none of this ever happened. If she couldn’t remember the sex, either it hadn’t happened, it was so boring she forgot it, or she’d been so drunk that her brain couldn’t process it. She’d guess it was the so-drunk possibility, because being in a room with a hunk like Adam the Gorgeous made choice number two impossible and number one not likely. Bree scooted off the bed and grabbed her clothes. She’d take a quick shower and head to the airport. So what if her flight didn’t leave until late afternoon? The sooner she said good riddance to this city, the sooner she could forget what she might or might not have done.

She spotted the folded note on the vanity the second she entered the bathroom. Her name was written on the front in a bold scrawl. Bree grabbed the note and opened it.

B
ree
:

Sorry I left without saying good-bye but I didn’t want to wake you.

I’ve got a morning meeting but will be back at 11:00.

We need to talk.

Adam

B
ree ran
into the bedroom and looked at the clock. It was 10:05 a.m. Adam would be back in less than an hour. Why? What did he want? Most likely a repeat of last night. She might not be able to remember it, but what other reason could he possibly have? A man didn’t return to the scene of a one-night stand unless he thought he could turn it into a two-night stand. Hah. Well, that was not going to happen. She’d grab a quick shower, throw her clothes in the suitcase, and check out. By the time Adam knocked on her hotel room door, she’d be on her way to the airport, miles away from him and whatever happened in that hotel room.

A
dam checked
his watch and tried to act like he wasn’t in a hurry to get through the meeting and out the door. Was Bree awake yet? Had she found his note? He’d wanted to wake her before leaving this morning, but she was sound asleep and he needed to get home and showered before he headed to the office. But the real truth was that he needed time to think about what he wanted to say to her and how he wanted to present it. It shouldn’t be that difficult considering he’d spent a good part of his adult life playing with words: interpreting, analyzing, sometimes even manipulating them, depending on the cause and the situation. Lawyers consumed words like oxygen; it was part of who they were and if they were good at it, the words and the end result appeared effortless and natural.

Adam talked for a living and had a talent for it. Before he moved to Chicago to work with Roman, he’d been a partner in a California law firm where talking and negotiating were his specialty. Why then had he needed extra time to prepare for a talk with a woman he barely knew, who used words like
hightail
and
kit and caboodle
? He should be able to handle her comments and objections on the subject they needed to discuss with the same level of calm and common sense he employed with other people in his personal and business life. Except Bree wasn’t like other people. She possessed a sweet innocence and a vulnerability that made him want to protect her. That sounded ridiculous since he’d just met the woman and knew more about Roman’s dog than he did about Bree. But there was something about her that made him trust what she said, even the nonsensical comments she’d tossed in now and again. He might not know her whole backstory, but he’d figured out she’d been cheated on, probably by a husband, and she didn’t much trust men right now.

Why the hell had he ever agreed to that kiss? He should have stayed in the hallway, ignored the sultry voice and smile that promised the kiss would be better than molten chocolate lava cake, sweeter, too. Damn it, he knew better, and yet he hadn’t been able to resist the invitation. One kiss led to two and two led to touching and touching led to the bed… Adam dragged a hand over his face, wished he could rewind the last several hours and pause it right at the point where he told her he was leaving…and he was still in the hallway…

“Hey, what’s going on?” Roman sliced through Adams thoughts, eyed him a little too closely. “You’ve been distracted since you got here.” A smile inched around the corners of his mouth. “Late night?”

If he only knew. Adam shook his head. “Just got a lot on my mind.”

“Huh. Does this have to do with California?”

He meant Sara
. “No, not California.”

“Good. So, did you find another location that could be as appealing as California but without the difficulties?”

Code for
Have you found a woman you could care about who isn’t married, engaged, or otherwise involved, and who isn’t your sister-in-law?
Roman was getting very good at dropping messages in the middle of statements. Adam had taught him well, or maybe Angie had taught him, though that didn’t seem as likely. Angie was a straight-up, no-fuss kind of woman who preferred high tops and the truth to heels and a half-baked version of what might or might not be the truth. She was perfect for Roman who sometimes got caught up in fashion and other people’s feelings. Adam never should have told the man his real reason for leaving California, but how was he to know his friend would make it his personal mission to find him a woman who wasn’t Sara?

“Adam? Is that a yes?”

As if he’d answer that question. Give Roman a hint of anything that smelled like a potential relationship and Mr. Matchmaker would be all over it, asking too many questions, recommending restaurants, drawing up itineraries, as though Adam had never been on a date before or been involved with someone. He’d had plenty of dates and he’d been involved with lots of women—sophisticated, beautiful, educated. Most of them wanted more than a dinner, a trip or two, and a nice piece of jewelry. Most wanted a piece of him, his heart
and
his commitment, and those were things he’d never been willing to share—at least not with any of them. Sara had been different. Her, he would have married. But it didn’t matter because she’d chosen his brother. Adam glanced at his watch again and said, “No.”

“No, what? No, it’s not a yes, or no, it’s not a yes, but it is a maybe?”

Clever. “No, there’s no information or update to report. I’m currently single and plan to remain so for the foreseeable future.” Bree had been a breath of fresh air but he didn’t even know her last name. As for last night, he couldn’t identify or categorize
what
had happened, a true first for him.

“If you say so.”

Another code phrase for
I don’t believe a word you’re saying, but have it your way. The truth will slip out sooner or later. It always does
. Adam ignored the comment and said, “You wanted to meet about a business that might be for sale?” He checked his watch again. If they didn’t get this meeting started, he’d never make it back to Bree’s hotel by 11:00 and he couldn’t risk her thinking he wouldn’t be there, or worse, leaving before he got there.

Roman eyed him one last time before he tossed his pen on the desk, sat back in his chair, and sighed. “I’ve got a bit of a sticky situation. It involves my hometown, Magdalena, New York. I got a phone call the other day from a man who owns a furniture business and is looking to sell it. It’s a cabinet-making place, quality stuff, room for expansion, been around as long as I can remember.”

Adam sank into the chair across from Roman’s desk, intrigued by a business in Roman’s hometown. The place was a dot on the map, somewhere in or around the Catskills, away from anything resembling city or civilization. Where did people shop for clothes, and what about shoes? Fashions had to be a few years behind, at least. And snow? Roman said they had their share and there’d been a time a few Christmases ago when the whole town shut down. But that hadn’t stopped people from celebrating, many sharing their homes, food, and fireplaces. Apparently, the town was built on community, friendship, and a whole lot of support from the residents. That concept was an unfamiliar though not entirely unwelcome one. Still, how did a person go about engaging in that sort of endeavor? Was the support organic or planned out step by step? The concept intrigued and fascinated him and he thought he’d enjoy visiting such a place, with the exception of the fashion issue. That he would not enjoy. “Magdalena,” Adam repeated, liking the sound of the name as it rolled off his tongue. “So, the owner’s retiring and wants to unload.”

“Kind of.”

“Ah.” Adam raised a brow. “There’re a lot of possibilities in those two words. Is this where it gets sticky, and where I’m sent to unstick it?”

Roman didn’t try to hide his smile. “Pretty much.”

“Then you’d better tell me the whole story so I know what I’m walking into.”

“Rex’s daughter’s running the place right now, and according to him, it’s too much for her. He says she has no life aside from work and the kids.” Roman sighed, rubbed his jaw. “He wants us to find a buyer for the place and part of the deal will include a job for her, just not running it.”

“Okay.” Sounded reasonable. Owners sold their companies all the time and many stayed on as employees. Definitely doable. “What’s the sticky part?”

“He doesn’t want her to know what’s happening until the deal’s done. I guess because he’s afraid she’ll try to convince him not to sell.” He shook his head. “She’s always been a daddy’s girl and he hates to disappoint her.”

“Business is business. No room for spoiled children in the boardroom.” Adam had seen his share of companies fractured by second-generation owners. Some really did care about the business, while others were more interested in personal agendas and perks.

“I think she’s doing a decent job with the business, but Rex is worried she’s letting it consume her and using it as an excuse not to give another relationship a try, especially after what happened with her husband.”

That did not sound good. “Should I ask what happened?”

“Sure, why not? Once you hit Magdalena, you’ll find out soon enough and I’d rather give you a heads-up. That’s one thing about small towns; everybody knows your business, whether you want them to or not. I wasn’t back in Magdalena twenty-four hours before I heard about the about the guy’s heart attack.” He picked up a pen, flipped it between his fingers. “Happened in a hotel room a town over…guy was with his girlfriend.”

“Damn. No wonder the woman’s sworn off men.”

“No kidding. But Rex isn’t going to sit back and watch his daughter shrivel up because some jerk did her wrong.” Roman eyed him. “That’s where you come in.”

Adam checked his watch again. He had five minutes to wrap this up and get out the door. “Look, I’ll do whatever you want as long as you don’t try to fix me up with the woman.”

Roman smiled. “You might change your mind once you see her.”

“No thanks.” He wasn’t interested in a daddy’s girl who was probably going to make his job a lot more difficult.

“Okay, so you don’t want to hear about the long legs and the—”

“No.” Bree had long legs…a killer smile…and—

“Fine.” Roman’s smile spread. “Good luck staying neutral.”

“It’s not like I’ve never worked with a beautiful woman before. I’ll be fine and I’ll stay neutral, no problem. You want me to head to Magdalena and evaluate the business and not let the woman know it’s going to be sold?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s it?” None of the above sounded exceptionally sticky, but the two-second delay made Adam suspicious, and when a dull blush plastered Roman’s cheeks, Adam knew there was more to this story.

“Not exactly.” Roman coughed, cleared his throat. “Rex wants you to pretend you’re a consultant he hired to increase efficiency and reduce waste.” He blew out a breath, shrugged. “I don’t like subterfuge, but the man asked me as a favor and I don’t know how to get out of it.”

“He asked you to help him lie to his daughter and throw me in to keep the lie going?” No answer. “You know, it’s one thing to send me in there to keep my mouth shut and evaluate the business, but out-and-out deception where the father’s lying to the daughter? You don’t think that’s wrong on so many levels?”

“If his intent were malicious, I’d say yes. But he’s only trying to protect her because he doesn’t think she’s strong enough right now to deal with the truth.” Roman’s voice dipped and covered his next words with sympathy. “I just need you to go in and gather enough information to evaluate the business so we can start looking for buyers. But Bree is never going to help you if she knows who you really are and why you’re there.”

“Bree?”

Roman nodded. “Bree Kinkaid, Rex’s daughter.”

Bree?
“Huh. That’s not a very common name. Is it?” Bree said she was visiting Chicago, but he had no idea what she did. And of course, he didn’t know her last name.

“I never heard of the name other than the cheese, so I’d say no. Not common.”

Adam glanced at his watch. Maybe it wasn’t a common name, but the woman in Roman’s hometown and the one last night could
not
be the same person. No way. The odds were too great. Still, because he wasn’t a betting man and preferred “sure things,” Adam poked around. “What’s she look like?”

Roman stared at him. “Why? You think her old man’s going to try and fix you two up?” He laughed. “No need to worry about that one. I hear she’s definitely on the not-interested-and-not-looking list.” He shook his head, sighed. “Too bad, too. Nice girl. A little off, but kindhearted with that damnable southern drawl.”

Adam’s stomach churned and twisted so hard he thought he’d throw up. “Drawl?” he managed when he could find his breath. “She has one of those?” How many women named Bree had a southern drawl?

“Yup.” Another head shake. “I don’t know how since she’s never lived in the south. As a matter of fact, I’m not sure she’s ever
visited
the south, but that accent is there.”

Okay, how many women had southern accents and were named Bree? That was beyond coincidence. There was only one way to find out. Adam stood, brushed off his slacks, and said, “I’ve got to be somewhere; can we finish up later?”

“As long as we firm up the details sometime today. Rex wants you in Magdalena next week.”

“Uh, sure. I’ll catch you later.” Adam sprinted out the door and ran after a taxi. He had twenty minutes to get to the hotel and find out if the woman last night was the one he was being sent to trick, and if so, what he was going to do about it.

When he arrived at the hotel, he didn’t stop at the front desk but ran to the elevator, stepped inside, and punched the seventh-floor button. Three times. He’d always thought people who repeated actions in the hopes of speeding a process that would not be sped up were ridiculous, and now he was one of them. What was he going to say to Bree? He had no idea but he’d start with talking about what happened last night. No sense pretending around that. He’d never been a man to leave a woman not knowing where they stood. Except, he didn’t know where they stood, and if she was this Rex guy’s daughter, that put Adam in a very complicated situation with no easy solution. The elevator dinged open and he rushed down the hall, past the housekeeping cart to Bree’s room. Why was the door ajar? He pushed it open, stepped inside. “Bree?”

A short, stocky, forty-something woman in a pale blue uniform stared back at him from across the room. She stood beside the bed, a ball of sheets in front of her. Housekeeping? Was Bree gone? No, no, she couldn’t be. Adam advanced into the room, tried to keep his voice calm, and asked, “The woman who was in this room? Did you see her?”

“No. I didn’t see anyone.” She darted a glance at him as though afraid she might have done something wrong.

The only people who’d done anything wrong were Bree and himself. They should have introduced themselves and stopped with the games last night. People didn’t pretend they were somebody else, at least not people in his world. “Do you know if she checked out or are you just cleaning the room?” Maybe she’d run out and would be back in a few minutes. Another glance at his watch told him it was 11:05 a.m. Maybe she wasn’t punctual…maybe she’d gotten hungry… But when the housekeeper said the dreaded words
checked out
he had to acknowledge the other, very real possibility.