Winning Wyatt (The Billionaire Brotherhood Book 1) (10 page)

Waking
up with her Mystery Man at dawn moved her as powerfully as making love with him
at sunset. Wearing a borrowed get-up of T-shirt, sweat pants, and shoes he
claimed belonged to his sister, Kara explored the first floor of his cabin. The
house didn’t have the coordinating feel of a professional decorator, but no
expense had been spared, and eclectic styles blended together to make for a
satisfying whole.

A
soft leather couch resided under a wide window. Sitting opposite it were two
sturdy chairs covered in the deep colors of a French tapestry. A driftwood
coffee table supported an interesting sculpture and rested on a dhurrie rug.
Floor to ceiling bookshelves rose on each side of a stone fireplace accented
with a thick, rough-hewn mantle.

Force
of habit drew her toward the artwork hanging on the walls. An original Andrew
Wyeth. One of Mondrian's sketches. A Kandinsky oil. She wondered what kind of
collection he must have at his primary residence if this was what he displayed
at a weekend home.

She
lifted the twisted piece from the coffee table and looked at the signature. S.
Davenport. Excellent craftsmanship but not in the category of the other
artists.

Two
photographs graced the shelves in the corner, tucked among a dizzying array of
books. One of the pictures had Wyatt posed between a boy who bore him a
remarkable resemblance and an attractive dark-haired woman. Closing a mental
door on a flash of unease, Kara turned away from the snapshot.

It
didn’t mean he was married. She refused to think it. The woman could be his
sister. The boy might be his nephew. If not, that still didn't mean he was
married. Death and divorce happened every day.

The
other photo showed the rearview of three beautifully-sculpted men scaling a
sheer rock wall that soared into a vivid blue sky. It was the kind of photo she
would have expected to see in National Geographic of three adventurers risking
their lives to conquer nature regardless of personal safety. Or advertising the
kind of extreme vacation only the really wealthy, daring, and fit could afford.
Even from the rear, she recognized her Mystery Man, but the other two appeared
just as intrepid. In the corner, a strong-hand had written Long Live the
Brotherhood.

With
the thud of footsteps coming down the stairs, she grabbed a book and hurried
outside. Before long, chipmunks and squirrels scampered up to eat grain from a
feeder on the corner of the deck. Kara happily abandoned her book when Wyatt
brought out a gourmet lunch on a tray.

Convinced
that Bobby Flay must be hidden in the kitchen’s pantry, Kara savored every bite
of the tortellini pesto with Caprese salad and Italian bread. They had nearly
finished the meal when she looked up, stricken by a sudden thought.

“What?”

“I
hope there aren’t any neighbors close by.”

He
chuckled. “It’s a little late to worry about that now. Maybe I’m an
exhibitionist. Maybe I’m surrounded by voyeurs. Maybe they pay me to bring
women up here and put on a show for them.”

“Then
I hope they got their money’s worth.” She put down her fork and leaned forward
to confide, “I’ve always wanted to make love outdoors.”

“You
have, huh? And what was last night?”

“Last
night, it was dark and we were sheltered in the shadow of the house. But
daylight would be like—” She gestured vaguely with her hands as if searching
for an apt description.“—like Splendor in the Grass.”

“Just
one more item to cross off your things-to-do-before-you-die list, hmm? ‘Though
nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass... of glory in the
flower... We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.’”

Kara
closed her eyes on a sudden flash of pain, but she forced her focus to return
to the Poetry 101 reference. “Wordsworth? You are a man of varied tastes,
aren’t you?” She turned her head in both directions, searching for a
strategically placed stand of bleachers. “Could anyone really see us?”

“Is
that part of the fantasy?”

“No,
but I wouldn’t mind pretending it’s part of the memory.”

“You
can remember it any way you’d like, without regard to pedestrian restrictions
like right or wrong, good or bad, real or imagined. Isn’t that what this
time-out-of-time adventure is all about?”

He
reached for her, but the ringing of an actual phone intruded. “Damn. I’ll be
right back.”

Kara
cleared their lunch dishes, left them on the kitchen counter, and followed the
sound of his voice to the office upstairs.

“Yes,
I hear you.” He laid on the accent thicker than usual, “No, I’m not coming to
‘Lanta this weekend.” There was a pause. “You and your mother both know the
arrangement is for me to come home once a month, and I was there two weeks
ago.” And then, with a long-suffering sigh, “All right, then, next week.”

Pacing
around the room with restless energy, he caught sight of Kara standing in the
doorway. She turned and moved away, but his words followed her down the hall.
“I love and miss you, too, or I sure wouldn’t be letting you coerce me into performin’
like a trick dog for y’all’s benefit.” Another pause. “Yeah, I’ll see you next
week.”

Kara
wished she’d clamped her hands over her ears to keep from overhearing the
conversation, but it was too late for that. No wonder he had agreed to her
weekend scheme. The photograph on the bookshelf came to mind.

This
flash of pain was what came from getting involved instead of resisting
temptation. Luckily, it was just physical. It wasn’t as if she cared about him.
It wasn’t.

By
the time he followed her into his bedroom, Kara had stepped into yesterday’s
rumpled navy skirt. Leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms, he watched
her slip into the fitted jacket. Then she turned to face him.

“Guess
what?” She tried to sound a hell of a lot more chipper than she felt. “The real
world just intruded.”

He
rubbed his hand along his jaw. “We can’t pretend any longer we’re the only two
people on the planet, can we, Anouk?”

“I
didn’t even know you had a landline.” She ignored the reference to their
fantasy. “It seems so isolated out here.”

He
shrugged his broad shoulders, and she wished the movement didn’t have the power
to attract her. “Necessary evil. Cell phone reception goes out during storms.
The number isn’t common knowledge.”

She
raised her eyebrows. “Known only to close friends?”

“A
few close friends, but worse than that. Known only to family members.”

Kara
cleared her throat and tried to speak. Only two words emerged. “Wife? Son?”

He
shook his head slowly. “Sister. Mother.”

By
picking up her borrowed shoes, Kara brought another woman into the room with
them like a physical presence. She wanted to believe him, but she was afraid
that was due to wishful thinking. “I believe your sister wears a size ten.”

He
pressed his lips together at her tone, but answered her evenly. “That’s right,
she does.” He crossed the room, tossed the shoes aside and drew Kara with him
down the stairs, his fingers locked around her elbow. “If you get to ask
questions, so do I. But let’s talk outside where we’ve both been more comfortable.”

Kara
felt like an old-fashioned schoolmarm dressed in her interview suit while
trying hard to ignore the magnetism he exuded in a pair of board shorts and a
denim shirt fastened by only two buttons.

On
the deck, he deposited her in a chair at the table. Instead of taking a place
across from her, he propped himself against the rail and crossed one ankle over
the other.

“It’s
your game. How do you want to handle it?”

The
question surprised her. “What do you mean?”

“How
much do you want to know, and how much do you want to tell?”

Kara
considered the options. She wanted to know everything and tell nothing, but
doubted he’d go for that. “Let’s each tell the other five facts about ourselves
and ask five questions.”

“Finite
or open-ended?”

“As
you wish, with only one restriction. Whatever information we give, it must be
the absolute truth.”

“Who
goes first?”

“I
will.” She thought for a moment and couldn’t come up with five substantive
facts about herself she wanted to share. Slowly, she counted on her fingers. “I’m
an art critic and writer. Who came out here for a job interview. I grew up in
Indiana. Now I live in New York City. And I detest pizza.”

His
mouth quirked up in a grin, implying he understood more than her words
conveyed. Stepping over beside her, he closed her fingers into her palm. Then
he lifted them one by one and kissed a fingertip with each of his disclosures.
“I’m a professor of English literature. At Southern Cal. I’m originally from
‘Lanta.” Again she noted the pronunciation that only hinted at the word’s first
syllable. “I love pizza. And I’m on the board of directors at The
Hansett
.”

His
last announcement didn't register for a full second as he licked her thumb and sucked
the tip into his mouth. Then his amber eyes met hers, waiting for her reaction.

“At
The Hansett?” Gasping, she pulled her hand from where he held it near his
mouth, pinched his nose between her fingers and twisted.

“Hey!”
He reared back and broke the hold easily, but looked at her like she had lost
her mind.

She
was more shocked than he was. She couldn’t remember a single time in her life
when she had reacted to any provocation with physical violence. “You’re on the
board at The Hansett?”

“I
thought Regina might have told you.” He rubbed his nose.

“No.”
She shook her head vehemently. “She told me she had a friend out here she
wanted me to meet. But I told her I didn’t want to meet anyone, so she didn’t
tell me anything more. Is this your way of conducting an interview? Do you
always have sex with potential museum employees?”

“Are
those two of your five questions?”

“They
were rhetorical!” Looking furious, she jumped up. “All I want to know is how
soon I can leave.”

“As
soon as you answer my questions.” He rose to his full intimidating height and
stood directly in front of her, blocking her departure from the deck.

“You
can ask Regina your damn questions.” Her snippiness contrasted unfavorably with
the coolness of his tone.

She
felt betrayed, as if he and Regina had conspired together. Her friend would
insist that her meddling was for Kara’s own good, but what excuse would Wyatt
have for his sexual harassment?

“I’d
rather ask you. Come on.” He reseated her on the chaise. “A deal’s a deal.”

His
hands kneaded her rigid shoulders. The warmth of his breath caressing her ear
as he spoke sent chills down her spine. “I’ll go first. Why does my association
with Regina annoy you? I thought you’d be relieved to know I come with a good
recommendation.”

“Regina’s
my agent. But more than that, we’ve been best friends since college, which she
thinks gives her license to interfere in my life. She insisted that I come out
here, that I needed a change.” Kara herself examined the reasons behind her
anger as she explained them. “I feel like I’ve been set up.”

 
“Look at what we would have missed if she
hadn’t called me.” The corner of his mouth twitched into an encouraging smile.
“Are you ready to ask your first question?”

She
didn’t want to play this game anymore, but his grin sucked her in. “Who
prepared all the food?”

He
laughed. “Nina Trilby. She lives nearby and cooks for me whenever I’m going to
be here. When I leave, she’ll come back and clean up. She also takes the
leftover food home to her husband, which is why she makes so much.”

“She’ll
probably be disappointed when she discovers I’ve been eating everything in
sight.”

“Nah,
she’ll be thrilled. I think she harbors the hope that I use the place as a
secret love shack.”

“Do
you?”

“Is
that another one of your questions?”

“Yes.”
The word emerged so low the wind nearly carried it away.

With
his hands on her shoulders, he turned her to look him square in his eyes. “I’ve
never brought any other woman here before.”

“No
one except the ‘sister’—” Kara offered the word like it had a more sinister
interpretation, because she still wasn’t certain she should believe him “—who
conveniently left her shoes behind.”

“Yes.”
He sighed. “A year or so ago she was going through a tough time at home and
needed to get away for a while. I let her use the cabin. And that really was
her on the phone, too.”

Kara
couldn’t let the subject go. “Are you now or have you ever been married?”

“I
was engaged once, but it didn’t work out. I don’t buy into the concept of
happily-ever-after. But on the other hand, I haven’t had indiscriminate affairs
since my college years when keeping score was more important than discretion or
caution.” He stretched out on the chaise and turned onto his side. “What else?”

She
cocked her head and considered. Multitudes of questions could still be asked.
“What is The Brotherhood?” He quirked an eyebrow and she went on. “Another
picture on the bookshelves.”

“A
schoolboy nickname for a trio of friends.”

“Why
do I feel like there’s more to it than that?”

He
tugged his ear before explaining. “On a particularly difficult day while I was
still in prep school, I made an unplanned cross-country trip with two other
guys. We bonded during those forty-eight hours, sharing our hopes and dreams,
our secrets and fears. We formed a pact that we would be there for one another
whenever we were needed.”

“Someone
you can count on.”

“Two
someones actually, but yes.”

“Lucky
you.” She could ask him anything she wanted, but this time she went for the
obvious. “What’s your last name?”

“Maitland.
Wyatt Connor Maitland, at your service, ma’am.” He bent his head in a mock bow
and took her hand in his, tugging her down to lie next to him. She couldn’t
think straight beside him and struggled to sit up. He gentled her with a kiss
on her mouth until she lay still.

But
the name continued to tug at her. He knew Regina. His name was Wyatt. She
repeated it aloud. “Wyatt Maitland.” She rolled the name around on her tongue
like a breath mint.

He
looked slightly wary. “That’s right.”

“Wyatt
Maitland...”

His
lips nibbled her ear. Sure that he was intentionally distracting her, she
brushed him away like a fly.

“Now,
it’s my turn, Ms. Enderley,” he began when realization hit Kara like a tidal
wave.

“Oh
my God! Wyatt Maitland!” Catching him by surprise again, she shoved him off the
chaise and he landed on the deck with a thump. “You’re the Wyatt Regina knew in
Italy. The one she—Oh my God!” Kara covered her face with her hands.

He
gripped her thighs. “She was there with one of my buddies.”

“But
he dumped her for some bistro singer. She went with you to Florence one
weekend. On your motorcycle.”

“And
then she moved on to someone else.” He did have the grace to blush. “How do you
know this stuff? That’s almost more than I remember.”

“I
told you. We’ve been best friends since college. And if there’s one thing you
can say about Regina, it’s that she kisses and tells. She does everything and
tells. You received a glowing report, by the way.”

“That’s
ancient history. I haven’t seen Regina in years, and we were never exclusive.”

Regina’s
descriptions of her weekend with Wyatt came flooding back. And to think Kara
had always believed her friend had exaggerated about her companion’s prowess.

“It
was a consensual weekend between friends,” he tried to explain.

“Me
and you, or you and Regina?” Kara asked. “Are you going to tell her that
we—that we—?” She sputtered to a halt as she remembered all the pertinent
facts. She sat with stiff posture, feeling as if her privacy had been invaded.

“No.”

From
his position at her feet, he squinted into the sun. She turned to look at him,
to judge the veracity of his statement, but he moved up beside her, so close
that she breathed in the air he exhaled. Still feeling exposed in indefinable
ways, she pulled back, unwilling to let his spell enfold her.

“Tell
her we met for dinner, and that’s all.”

He
nodded. “All right.”

“You’ll
do as I suggest just like that?” She snapped her fingers. “How do I know you
mean it?”

“It’s
one of your rules. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. I may
have a Bible in the house if you want me to swear to it. You seemed to think
you could believe me before—”

“Before
I knew you deceived me.”

He
shook his head. “I wasn’t sure what you did or didn’t know about me, but I was
willing to tell you the truth at any time. You were the one who didn’t want to
hear it.”

Kara
frowned at the reminder of the knowledge he’d had of her, but he erased the
down-turned lines of her mouth with a fingertip and kissed each of her eyelids
with a soft caress. He paused, apparently waiting for her to accept his words,
for some sign that she understood, but she was determined to remain aloof. She
frowned over an ugly thought. “Did Regina ask you to seduce me? Does my getting
the job hinge on my performance this weekend?”

“No,
of course not.” He brushed her hair behind her ear and stroked gently through
the strands. The touch managed to work its soothing magic. “The position was
advertised through the regular channels. When she recognized my name on the
board, she called me to personally recommend you. She raved about the extent of
your knowledge and writing skills. She also said we had interests in common and
maybe I could take you to dinner. She never suggested that I try to spirit you
away for the weekend or become intimate with you in any way. Believe me, from
the moment I saw you, doing Regina a favor was the last thing on my mind.”

With
her head bent, she peeked at him from under the slant of her hair, beginning to
believe him.

“Will
you answer one more question?” He waited for her agreement, and she nodded.
“The thing I’ve wondered about the most is why do you look so sad?”

She
sprang up and away from him, separating herself from the concern in his voice.
That was the last question she expected him to ask, and in fact, the main thing
she didn’t want to discuss. On the heels of the revelation about his former
relationship with Regina, it was too much. She returned to the table and sat in
her chair, hands fidgeting in her lap. “It’s a long story.”

“I
have time.” He clasped his hands behind his head in a relaxed pose, but his
study of her remained intense and direct.

“I’m
not sure I want to tell it.”

“When
I went to The Hansett yesterday, the last thing I wanted was company for the
weekend. But something about you spoke to me, Kara. The look in your eyes
haunted me. I tried to dismiss the idea, but I couldn’t. You may not think you
can trust me, but you can. And sometimes it helps to talk about our burdens. To
acknowledge them. Vanquish them.”

She
crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “You ask a lot.”

“I
ask for nothing.”

“But
Regina—”

He
shook his head. “Regina doesn’t factor into this.”

Kara
felt torn. Confused. Afraid. If she spoke of them, all of the old feelings she
had only been able to contain, but never banish entirely, would be released
from the place she kept them subdued. But with his keen, sympathetic eyes on
her, control was an illusion she could no longer afford. She took a deep
breath. “Stop me if this is more than you want to know.” She prayed that he
would.

Looking
in his general direction, but focusing beyond him, she went to a place in the
past. A place it wounded her to return to.

“I
was married and had a child.” She hoped a matter-of-fact delivery would get her
through the story with the least amount of exposure. “My husband, Mike, was a
chemist. Brilliant in his field, shy and reserved otherwise. Except with me. We
had a son, Adam, during the first year of our marriage.”

Wyatt
sat up and reached toward her. He stroked her arm. Just that. A soothing
gesture that encouraged her to continue.

 
“Later, we talked about having another child,
but we decided to time the birth for after I finished work on my master’s. It
hurts my heart to think how happy we were. How naive we were to think we could
plan the future to suit ourselves.” She moved her hand to her chest and rubbed
her fingers over the spot that ached.

“What
happened?”

Remembering
that cold, dreadful day, Kara shivered. “It started to snow and quickly turned
into a blizzard. I was supposed to pick Adam up from the babysitter’s on my way
home from class, but Mike left a message that he would get him. When I finally
got to the house after being stuck in traffic for hours, they weren't there yet.
Not long afterward, a policeman came to the door.”

She
swallowed a lump in her throat. Suddenly, Wyatt knelt beside her, gripping her
hands in his, offering her his strength. She wouldn’t look at him. Pity from
him now would kill her.

“Both
of them were killed. My God, both of them,” she cried in a hoarse voice, the
words ripped from her throat. She fell silent again, gathering enough control
to continue. “I’m told I did everything that was required of me. I went to the
hospital and identified the bodies. I arranged for the funeral. I stood by the
caskets and accepted condolences. I remember very little of it, except for
sitting in my house for months afterward, surrounded by their things, haunted
with guilt and remorse. I didn’t eat or sleep, didn’t acknowledge friends or
family. Seasons came and went. Friends came and went. Nothing penetrated my
grief. Nothing mattered.”