Kestrel (Hart Briothers #3) (4 page)

“I
can see that. You need to take the afternoon off?”

“No.
I just need to take a few minutes to pull myself together.”

At
least if I stay here, I’ll be away from what pains me the most. I head to the
cafeteria, grab a cup of coffee, and sit down. Reaching inside my jacket, I
pull out my ever-present pictures and stare at them. My heart cracks when I see
her face. I rest my head on my hand as I set the pictures down. Sometimes I
think I would just like to end it all if I didn’t have my goal to focus on.

When
I get back to the lab, my brain is barely engaged. I’m in a daze and all I can
do is think about that five-thirty appointment. At four-thirty, I tell John I’m
calling it a day and go home. I don’t even bother to shed my lab coat. Foggy
headed, I drive home and make it as far as the kitchen, where I take a seat at
the counter. I’m still sitting there when the doorbell rings.

A
small part of me thinks about not answering it, but then I know how foolish
that would be. When I open the door, I’m shocked to see a man standing there
and not Anne Crosby. And this is not just any man. Emerald green eyes nail mine
and I’m instantly intimidated. He assesses me, analyzes me. I can almost see
his brain ticking away. It wouldn’t surprise me if a computer printout would
miraculously appear, and he’d snatch it out of the air, fold it up, and slide
it into his pocket for future reference.

“Hello.”
His voice is deep and husky.

He
hasn’t blinked since I opened the door.

“Hi.”
I wave him through, but he doesn’t enter.

“Anne
isn’t here yet?” he asks crisply.

“Apparently
not.”

“I’m
Kestrel Hart.”

“Carter
Drayton.”

I
extend my hand to shake his. He takes hold of it and his is
warm
,
almost comforting. My phone rings and I break contact to dig it out of my
pocket. It’s then I realize I’m still in my lab coat.

“Dr.
Drayton,” I answer, without thinking. I wave him through again, but he still
doesn’t enter.

“Hi,
Dr. Drayton. Anne Crosby here. Has Mr. Hart arrived yet?”

“Yes,
he’s standing on the porch right now.”

“I’m
so sorry. Something’s come up—a family emergency. Nothing serious, but
I’m not going to be able to make it. Would you mind showing Mr. Hart around?”

It’s
the last thing I want to do, but what the hell can I say?

“No,
that’s fine. I’ll let him know.”

“Thank
you. I’ll be in touch.”

“Is
everything okay?” he asks.

“Anne
has an emergency and can’t make it. I’ll show you the house, if you’re fine
with that.”

“Sure.”

This
time he enters when I wave him in.

We
start on the first floor and after a few minutes, I say, “You know, why don’t
you just have a look for yourself. If you have any questions, let me know.”

“Sounds
fine to me.”

He
smiles and it softens his stern features. Then he’s off to look around on his
own. He has to sense my hostility. I’ve tried to cover it up, but it’s
difficult. I watch him as he moves away. He’s very tall and well built with jet-black
hair that is longer on the top but cropped short on the sides and back. A
cobalt blue shirt hugs his torso, complemented by a black tie. He wears black
pants and no jacket. Under other circumstances, I would probably succumb to his
unusually stunning looks, but right now, I’d like nothing more than to see him
leave.

I
head back to my perch on the stool at the counter as I wait for him to complete
his inspection. And then I wait. And wait. And wait some more. If one could
sprain one’s gut then that’s how mine would feel, all twisted up in knots and
bruised. My heart suffers as though a piece of barbed wire has been tied around
it. I hear his feet come back down the steps. He hasn’t been in the kitchen
yet, so I sit and hang tight, and seconds later he arrives. He won’t be
displeased. It’s top of the line everything, from the eight-burner Viking range
to the Sub-Zero side-by-side single refrigerator and freezer. My parents spared
no expense on this remodel.

He
stands there for a moment and then says, “Impressive.”

I
don’t breathe a word. I can scarcely look at him.

“There’s
a room upstairs that was locked. Can you give me the key or unlock it, please?”

I
bite my lower lip. “Yeah. About that.” I clear my throat. I want to say
something, anything, but words escape me.

“Yes?”

“I,
uh, …”

“Do
you have a key, or not?”

I
get up and woodenly walk up the stairs.

I’m so sorry Ells. I tried. I really did.

We
reach the door, and my hand shakes. The keys rattle on the ring. It takes a
couple of stabs before I get the key in the slot. But then I can’t make myself
turn it, so I back away until I hit the wall. He looks at me like I’m nuts. I
suppose I am, to a large degree. But I’m frozen. No one has seen my sanctum.
But now he’s about to and I can barely draw a breath. It’s like my soul is
being clawed out of my body.

He
steps forward, turns the key, and opens the door. I feel the rush of air from
her room hit my face and the barest hint of her scent seeps into my bones …
that baby smell that still lingers in the air. I slide down the wall until my
butt hits the floor. Voices fill my ears … her bubbly giggle … the pounding of
her tiny bare feet along the wide-planked heart pine floor. Chubby hands
splashing in the tub as she palms the water and it flies up in my face in a
spray, and we both laugh as droplets run off my cheeks and nose. It all will
vanish when this house sells. Her memory … the shrine that I’ve dedicated to
her in her room … plucked away like it never existed.

My
forehead rests on my knees and I hear the clicking of his heels as they
approach.

“Ells.
She was your daughter?”

“Yes.”
My voice is hoarse with emotion.

“I’m
sorry.”

I
muster the courage to look at him. His eyes, damn them, are so penetrating, I
feel like he’s probing my soul. He reaches out a hand to help me up so I take
it. It’s warm—a firm grip.

This
is a long shot, I know, but I have to try.

“Look,
I don’t want to sell. But I’m forced to. If I sell to you, will you keep Ells’
room like this?”

“What?”

“You
heard me. There’s a carriage house out back. It’s fixed up into a
one bedroom
apartment. I’d like to rent it. If I do, can I
come once a month to see her bedroom?”

“You’ve
got to be joking.”

“No.
I’ll do anything you want.
Anything
.” Then something takes over me. Call
it madness. Desperation. Insanity. Call it whatever you want. I step right up
to him and put my hands on his shoulders. Then I kiss him. He stands there like
a chunk of stone. So I press my body up to him, and rub myself against him. I
open my mouth and run my tongue over his lips, and then push it into his mouth.
Nothing. No response. Humiliation sets in. I am not this girl. I’m the classic
nerd. I don’t have boyfriends. I don’t even date. Where did this come from?

He
pulls away from me and steps back, rubbing his mouth.

“I’m
sorry, but you’re not my type.” His features initially register shock. But
worse than that, distaste replaces it.

That
stings. Really stings. But even more dreadful, I am morbidly ashamed of myself.
That doesn’t stop me from digging myself into an even deeper hole.

“What?
Am I not sexy enough? Are my clothes not revealing enough?”

“Um,
Dr. Drayton, this is more than a bit awkward.”

“No,
tell me. And my name is Carter.”

“You’re
propositioning me.” Now I detect shock and more than a hint of mockery.

“No,
not propositioning. I want to strike a deal. You see I’m a desperate woman. And
desperate people do all kinds of things.”

“Carter,
I’m really not interested.”

“I
know I’m not very attractive, but if you want me to change the way I look, I
can do that.”

“You
don’t understand.”

“What?
Am I not good enough for you?”

His
eyes skim me from head to toe. “Good doesn’t have anything to do with it.
You’re not
bad
enough for me.”

“Huh?”

Then
he grabs me, twists his hand in my ever-present ponytail, and kisses me. But
it’s nothing like anything I’ve ever experienced. This is not a kiss. It’s a life-changing
event. His lips don’t touch. They possess and control. I am so stunned my mouth
opens. His tongue sweeps in and it doesn’t lick; it tastes and sucks as it
tangles with mine. His teeth even engage in a way I didn’t think was possible.
There is nothing sweet and gentle about this kiss at all. Now I understand the
meaning of absolute passion. By the time he releases me, my head spins from the
lack of oxygen and my fingers gouge into his biceps, hanging on for dear life.

When
I think he’s done, his mouth dives down to my neck where his teeth scrape and
his tongue paints. I shock myself to hear deep groans emanating from me. Jesus,
what the hell is he doing to me? Then suddenly he ceases.

“Now
do you understand, Carter?”

He’s
tall, but so am I. And I’m not ready to give up my quest.

“You
don’t think I’m up for this challenge?”

His
eyes narrow as he snakes a hand under my lab coat and grabs my ass. He laughs
at my gasp.

“Not
at all. You’re so green, you’re wet behind the ears.”

“That’s
not the only place I’m wet.”

Now
it’s his turn to be shocked. Then he lets out a laugh. “I’m not sure what to
make of you, Dr. Drayton.”

“Give
me a chance. Please.”

He
gestures with his head, saying, “What you have up here is a huge dose of
unhealthy.”

My
lids drop. He’s right, but I can’t face letting it go. “If I lose this, I’m
afraid I’ll lose her memory, too.”

“That’s
nonsense.”

“Don’t
you dare tell me what’s
nonsense.
Have you ever lost a
child?” I wrench out of his embrace.

“No.”

“Don’t
act so high and mighty, then. You were probably raised like I was, without a
care in the world.”

His
features immediately darken and his lips thin. “I’d tread carefully, if I were
you. You don’t know a thing about me, Dr. Drayton. Assumptions can be very
dangerous.”

“Point
taken.”

“What’s
your price?”

“My
price?”

“For
the house?”

“Will
you accept the arrangement?”

“The
carriage house rental is yours. The room I have to consider.”

“I
meant what I said. I’ll do anything you want. No holds barred.”

“You
may change your mind,” he warns. “And then what?”

I
shrug. “Do what you want with the room. And I won’t change my mind. I swear.”

“The
price?”

“Four
point five.”

“I’ll
have a check delivered tomorrow. When can you have your things out?”

Jesus!
He didn’t blink or even quibble. Uncle Foster said I’d never get that much.
“That depends. Do you want the furnishings?”

“Isn’t
there anything you want to keep?”

“Well,
of course. Some of the family antiques I’ll want, but if I’m moving into the
carriage house, I won’t have room for all this stuff. This is a six-bedroom
house. Besides, the carriage house is already furnished.”

“I
guess we’ll need to meet to discuss what you want.”

“The
price will change if you want a lot of the furniture. My parents didn’t buy
cheap stuff.”

“I
can see that,” he says, dryly.

“Dinner?
Friday? I’ll cook and you can look around and decide what furnishings you’d
like to purchase.”

“Sounds
like we may have ourselves a deal.” He squints. “How did you know I was
single?”

“What?”

“How
did you know I wasn’t married? Your proposition?”

“No
ring.”

“Hmm.
A lot of married men don’t wear rings,” he says.

“Yeah,
the ones that try to hide it.”

He
pinches his lower lip as his emerald irises bore into my faded gray ones. Then
he says, “Friday. Seven.”

I
walk him to the door. He gets in a sleek, black sports car. The engine rumbles
so deep, it vibrates my bones. I’m not sure what kind of car it is, but I know
it’s expensive because I’ve never seen one like it before.

What
the hell have I just done? I hope I know what I’m doing because he looks way
out of my league and dangerous as hell. The first thing I do is call Harper. I
need some encouragement here. But I don’t dare tell her about the arrangement.