Chase stood and viewed her with the usual remote disregard as she and Joey got out of the Mercedes. She knew Chase thought she had married his father for his money, and although she knew it wasn’t true—she had married Edmond for his heart—it still hurt.
But she wouldn’t dwell on that, or let Chase put her on edge. At lease she’d try not to, she promised herself silently, as she took in everything about him. In soft denim jeans and a rumpled khaki shirt, he looked as ruggedly casual and defiantly at ease as ever. Remembering how unimpressed he was with ceremony, Hope felt a little swell of apprehension in her chest as he strode laconically toward her.
She didn’t know how this meeting was going to go. Even though she was still some ways away from her wide front porch, she did know he hadn’t shaved in at least twenty-four hours and there were telltale signs of travel fatigue both on his angular face and in the slow, weary movements of his lean, well-toned body. That probably meant he was just back in-country. He hadn’t cut his dark ash-blond hair in heaven knows when, and though the fine but abundant strands were combed neatly in a side part and pushed behind his ears, the unshorn style gave him a sexy, untamed look. He was so close to her own age, so different from Edmond, and so exciting.
In his professional and private life, Chase seemed to dare anything and for all his innate kindness and generosity, he seemed intent on pleasing only himself. And yet, she sensed, there was a part of him that seemed restless and unfulfilled and she wondered absently what it would take to make him feel replete. Not that he was inclined to give her any clue, of course. She had never had even the most cursory conversation with him one-on-one, never seen him look rattled. Never angry. Always cool and collected and somehow untouchable, emotionally as well as physically. And his enforced distance from her hurt as well as entranced. She knew he resented her for marrying his father, and also that he had no reason to resent her. But she could never tell him that, not without betraying Edmond. She had promised her husband that she would carry his secret with her to the grave. It was a promise she meant to keep.
“Mom, who is that?” Joey repeated, nudging her slightly.
Hope glanced back at her young son. He was still wearing his private-school uniform of gray slacks, navy blazer, white shirt. Puny in stature and bespectacled, he looked the antithesis of the healthy, robust, very laid-back and casual Chase. Chase had attended private school, too, albeit reluctantly. And maybe those years of forced formality were why he always refused to dress up now, unless it was absolutely unavoidable.
Putting her leather briefcase in one hand, her bag in the other, Hope said, “It’s your half brother, Chase, honey. You remember him, don’t you?”
“Oh,” Joey said in a voice that indicated he clearly did not remember Chase. “Yeah, sure.”
Of course, Hope thought, sighing inwardly, there was no reason why Joey should have remembered Chase. The funeral had been overflowing with people, she and Chase had made an art out of tactfully avoiding each other for years, and when he was in town, he’d managed to see his father only briefly before swiftly moving on.
So why was he here now? she wondered. What could he possibly want? And he did want something from her; she could tell by the look on his ruggedly handsome, sun-weathered face.
“Hope.” He nodded at her formally, making no effort to extend his hand.
Feeling ill at ease but determined not to show it, Hope nodded back stiffly. “Chase.” The moment drew out awkwardly, stretching her nerves unbearably thin as she realized close up, he was still as breathtakingly attractive as ever, still as able to wreak havoc on her senses. “I wasn’t aware you were in town.” Or that he still wore the deliciously rich, woodsy after-shave he had always favored.
He shoved a hand into his back pocket, the motion drawing his jeans tighter against the flatness of his abdomen, and fastened his hazel eyes on her face. “Just got in this afternoon,” he said laconically. His voice was a gravelly drawl and his eyes probed hers for a reaction.
He’d headed right over to see her, Hope realized with amazement, trying hard not to notice how soft and worn and snug those jeans were or how nicely they clung to the muscled contours of his trim waist, lean hips and long legs. Aware he was looking her over with the same in-depth appraisal, boldly examining every inch of her, it was all Hope could do to hold her ground.
Having apparently picked up her unaccustomed nervousness, Joey cast her a curious glance. “Is he gonna be staying with us, Mom?”
Chase can’t want to, Hope thought nervously, unable to tell from his defiantly impassive expression whether he found her changed or not. Because of Edmond, she had to offer her reluctant hospitality, “This is your home, too, Chase, and you’re welcome here anytime.” No matter how uncomfortably lonely you make me feel. Judging from the state of his clothes and his Jeep, he was as perennially short of cash as ever. He spent the yearly income from his lifetime trust almost as soon as it came. Usually, of course, he had quarterly profits from Barrister’s to tide him over as well, but Hope knew there had been no profits this quarter—or last. Which meant he was probably down to his last nickel.
“Thanks for the offer,” Chase said with a politeness as forced as her own, “but I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“You wouldn’t be imposing,” Hope countered cordially, again for her husband’s sake. She never wanted it said she hadn’t at least tried to make Chase welcome. While her husband had been alive, Chase had sometimes quartered in the guest house, however briefly. He’d maintained minimal contact with his father, none whatsoever with her and Joey. As far as she was concerned, he could continue to do the same. The guest house had a private entrance and driveway. As for her attraction to him, well, it was just something she would have to fight. She had conquered it before. She could conquer it again.
“Well,” Chase said awkwardly, confirming by his actions that he was indeed as short of cash as she suspected, “if you’re sure it’s no trouble and the guest house is available—”
“It is,” Joey cut in gregariously before Hope could verify the same.
“Well, fine, then. I’ll only be here a day or so, anyway,” Chase continued.
Hope tried very hard not to show her relief at that bit of news. One day of having him around she could handle, but not any more than that.
Aware her thoughts were straying into forbidden territory, she forced her mind back to the reason for his quick departure. “Still doing research in Brazil?” she asked, hoping fervently he hadn’t been able to read her thoughts.
“Costa Rica now. I’m not sure where I’ll be next.”
Joey touched Hope’s sleeve, subtly commanding her attention.
“Mom, is it okay if I go in now? I’m hungry.”
“Sure, honey. Just have Carmelita give you a snack. But don’t eat too much. Dinner’s going to be soon.” She looked at Chase, forcing herself to offer, even as she hoped he would refuse, “Will you be dining with us or do you have other plans?”
“No plans,” Chase said candidly, watching as Joey disappeared into the house. He turned back to Hope, his gaze intent and all encompassing, his purpose for being there as much a mystery as ever. He frowned and released a long, uneven breath, then seemed to have forced himself to speak. “Actually, Hope, a family dinner would be just the thing.”
For what? Hope wondered in complete unmitigated shock.
I’M HANDLING THIS all