“We’ve got a visitor,” he said.
“Who in the world would drop by for a visit at this hour?”
“Family.”
“Ah, yes. Of course.”
Harry got to his feet and went across the room to the intercom panel. He punched the button. “This is Trevelyan.”
“You have a visitor, Mr. Trevelyan,” Chris, the doorman, announced. “Mrs. Danielle Hughes is here to see you.”
Harry closed his eyes in brief resignation. “Send her up, Chris.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Trevelyan.”
Harry released the intercom button. “My Aunt Danielle. Brandon’s mother.”
“Ah.”
He turned to Molly and saw empathy in the jeweled depths of her gaze. It was an odd sensation to know that she somehow understood his feelings at that moment. He was not entirely sure that he comprehended them himself. It was always like this when he dealt with his family.
Molly started to close the top of her computer. “You’ll probably want to talk to your aunt alone in here. I’ll go out into the living room.
“No, stay where you are. No sense allowing Danielle to disrupt your work as well as mine. I’ll introduce you to her, and then I’ll talk to her in the front room.”
“Whatever you want. I take it this is going to be an unpleasant conversation?”
“Let’s just say I think I know what Danielle wants.” Harry walked toward the door. “Experience tells me that the sooner I give it to her, the sooner I’ll be able to get back to work.”
“Good luck.”
The doorbell chimed. Harry went to answer the imperious summons. Danielle was standing in the outer hall. Her handsome, patrician features were set in an expression of steely determination. The anxiety in her eyes was real. Harry knew her well enough to realize that in this mood, she would not be easily deterred.
Although his mother and Danielle had been sisters, there was little more than a superficial resemblance between the two women as far as Harry was concerned. Both had been beautiful in their youth, and their fine bone structure had accepted age well. But Harry remembered his mother as a happy, energetic woman whose eyes had sparkled with an exuberant love of life and an easy, affectionate spirit.
Harry could not recall ever having seen Danielle in a genuinely cheerful mood. She could be coolly pleasant and gracious when the occasion demanded, but that seemed to be her limit. The shadows of her miserable marriage to Dean Hughes still clung to her, even though Dean had had the decency to get himself killed in a car accident several years earlier.
“Harry, I must talk to you about Brandon.” Danielle swept into the condominium. She came to an abrupt halt and looked straight down her nose at Molly, who was standing in the doorway of the study. “Who’s this?”
“Hello,” Molly said politely.
“I didn’t realize you had company, Harry.” Danielle glanced at him as if she expected him to dismiss Molly the way he would have dismissed a servant.
“This is Molly Abberwick. Molly, my aunt, Danielle Hughes.”
“Danielle Stratton Hughes,” Danielle corrected coldly.
“How do you do?” Molly murmured.
“You must be Harry’s new little friend,” Danielle said. “Olivia mentioned that she had met you.”
“Harry’s little friend?” Molly pursed her lips. Amusement danced in her eyes. “Somehow I never thought of myself as any man’s little friend. What a concept.”
It did not take the Trevelyan Second Sight to know trouble when it was about to explode in his face, Harry thought. “Ms. Abberwick is a client, Danielle.”
Molly looked more amused than ever. “A little friend and a client.”
Danielle made a show of looking at the diamond-framed watch she wore. “It’s rather late to be doing business, isn’t it?”
“Depends on the business,” Molly said.
Danielle lifted her chin. “If you will excuse us, I have family matters to discuss with my nephew.”
“You bet. No problem.” Molly backed into the study. “Take your time. I won’t bother you at all. You won’t even know I’m in here.”
She winked at Harry just before she closed the study door.
Danielle gave the closed door a disdainful look as she went past it into the living room. “Really, Harry, you’re not going to tell me that woman is a client of yours.”
“You didn’t come here to discuss my relationship with Molly.”
“Don’t be rude.” Danielle settled onto the sofa. “I’m in no mood for it. I’ve got problems enough on my hands.”
Harry went to stand at the window. He looked out into the night. “What do you want, Danielle?”
“You’ve spoken with Brandon?”
“Yes. And with Olivia.”
“Then you know about Brandon’s ridiculous scheme to go into business on his own?”
Harry glanced briefly at her over his shoulder. “Yes.”
“You’ve got to talk him out of it, Harry.”
“Why should I? Brandon’s smart, and he’s willing to work hard. Let him follow his dream.”
“That’s impossible, and you know it,” Danielle said tightly. “My father will never allow him to go out on his own. Especially since you refused to join the company. Brandon has to stay with Stratton Properties. You know that as well as I do.”
“It’s the money, isn’t it? You’re afraid Parker will cut Brandon out of the will if he leaves the company.”
“That’s exactly what he’ll do, and we both know it. You know how Father feels about the firm.”
“Parker’s feelings aren’t as important as Brandon’s in this instance,” Harry said. “He wants to try his wings. Let him go, Danielle. If you don’t, he’ll only resent you for not having any faith in him.”
“Don’t you dare lecture me on how to deal with my son. You’ve done enough damage already.”
“Me?” Harry swung around to confront her. “What the hell have I done?”
“You know perfectly well that you’re the one who put the idea of leaving Stratton Properties into Brandon’s head.”
“Olivia tried to tell me that. Damn it, Danielle, this is not my fault.”
“Brandon was perfectly content to stay with Stratton Properties until you came along. After you walked away from your Stratton inheritance, I realized that Brandon actually envied your streak of foolish independence. It got worse after he married Olivia. Now he’s convinced himself that he must go out on his own.”
Harry slowly massaged the back of his neck. “You think Brandon is leaving the company in order to prove something? Maybe he just wants to start his own business. What would be so unusual about that? He’s a Stratton. Business is in his blood.”
“He’s jealous of you, don’t you understand?” Danielle stood up abruptly. “God knows why, but he is. He wants to prove to himself and to Olivia that he’s as strong and self-reliant as you are. In the process he’s going to ruin his life.”
“I think that’s overstating the situation.”
“No, it’s not,” Danielle said. “It’s the truth. If Brandon doesn’t stay with Stratton Properties, my father will disinherit him. I know he will.”
“You can’t be sure Parker will go that far.”
“I am sure of it,” Danielle retorted. “He disinherited Brittany when she ran off with Sean Trevelyan, didn’t he? And he disinherited you, too, when you refused to join the company. He swore you’d never see a dime of the Stratton money. He means it, Harry.”
“I don’t doubt it, but the circumstances are a little different.”
“I wish I could believe that, but I can’t risk it. You must do something. Just because you don’t want the Stratton money, that doesn’t give you the right to influence Brandon. I will not stand by and see my son deprived of his inheritance because of you. Do you
understand me, Harry?”
“Even if I admit, for the sake of this idiotic discussion, that I am guilty of inadvertently persuading Brandon to leave Stratton Properties, what the hell do you expect me to do about it now?”
“Talk him out of it.” Danielle turned on her expensively shod heel and went down the hall.
Harry closed his eyes in weary resignation as Danielle went through the door and shut it behind her.
After a moment he heard the study door open quietly. He looked across the room to where Molly stood watching him.
“I couldn’t help overhearing.” Molly propped one shoulder against the jamb. “Your aunt’s voice carries.”
“Tell me about it.” Harry massaged the back of his neck. “I’m sorry you had to sit through that.”
“Did your grandfather really offer to reinstate you in his will if you joined the family firm?”
“Yes.”
“And you turned him down, of course.”
“Parker Stratton uses money to control people. It’s as natural for him as breathing.” Harry went into the kitchen to find the bottle that he kept in a cupboard next to the refrigerator. “Can I interest you in a little medicinal brandy?”
“Sure.” Molly unpropped herself from the jamb and came forward. “What happens now? Will you try to talk Brandon out of leaving the family firm?”
“No.” Harry splashed brandy into two glasses. “I’ll talk to Parker. See if I can convince him to let Brandon go out on his own without reprisals.”
Molly accepted the brandy snifter. “Do you think that’s possible?”
“Maybe.” Harry smiled humorlessly. “With a little luck, I think I can convince Parker to do the right thing.”
Molly’s eyes were very green as she regarded him over the rim of the brandy glass. “The way you convinced your uncle, Leon, to lay off Josh?”
“Something like that, yes.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I get the impression that everyone on both sides of your family seems to think it’s your job to solve all of their problems.”
“Not all. Just some of them.”
Molly was silent for a while. “How did you get into this situation, Harry?”
He did not pretend to misunderstand the question. “Damned if I know.”
“Harry, this is me, Molly, remember? You can’t brush me off with that kind of answer. I’m too smart.”
He smiled reluctantly. “Granted. And you’ve got the Abberwick curiosity. I mustn’t forget that.”
“Look, if you don’t want to tell me why you put up with scenes like the one you just went through with your aunt, that’s fine. It’s your business. And it is a family matter. I have no right to pry.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to explain the situation.” Harry contemplated his brandy. “I’m just not sure of the answer. No one’s ever asked me that particular question before.”
“Leave it to an Abberwick,” Molly said lightly. “We’re inquisitive by nature.”
Harry thought about it for a good thirty seconds before he made his decision. He looked up from the brandy and found Molly watching him with calm perception and something that might have been sympathy.
“I got into this mess because I had some damn fool notion of ending the feud between the Strattons and the Trevelyans,” Harry said eventually.
“Ah.” Complete understanding lit Molly’s eyes. “Of course.”
“The only thing my parents wanted from either side of the family was peace. It was the one thing no one would give them.”
“And as the one who has blood from both sides flowing in his veins, you decided to try to build a bridge between the Strattons and the Trevelyans.”
Harry swirled the brandy in his glass. “That was the general idea.”
“It was to be your tribute to the memory of your parents, wasn’t it?”
“Something like that.” He wasn’t surprised that she understood it all, in one single gulp. What startled him was the odd sense of relief he experienced now that he had confided his quixotic dream to her.
“You’re committed to ending the feud just as I’m committed to my father’s foundation.”
“Yes,” Harry said. “But just between you and me, I think you’re going to be a lot more successful with the Abberwick Foundation than I’m going to be with ending the Trevelyan-Stratton feud.”
“Really?”
“After all these years, both sides of my family look at me and still see the past, not the future. Each wants me to make a choice between the two families, and neither will be satisfied until I do.”
“And you won’t do that.”
“I’m half Stratton and half Trevelyan. How can I choose?”
“I notice that the feud doesn’t stop anyone on either side of your family from using you,” Molly said dryly. “It’s weird, isn’t it, Harry?”
“What is?”
“That even though you’re the family outcast, in a way you’ve managed to become the head of both clans?”
“I’m not the head of the families,” Harry said. “I’m just the fool who got stuck in the middle. There’s a big difference.”
11
Molly could not stand the ravishing torment any longer. She was so buffeted by the endless waves of pleasure that she could hardly catch her breath. Harry’s stunningly intimate touch left her shivering with need. He made love to her with an enthralling thoroughness. His powerful, elegant hands were gentle and sure and utterly relentless. He coaxed the climax from her as if he were mining liquid diamonds. His long fingers glistened in the moonlight.
“Harry. Oh, my God, Harry. Please. No. I can’t…I can’t…”
“Jump,” he whispered against her skin. “I’ll catch you.”
The delicious tension exploded inside her. She clenched her fists in his dark hair and surrendered with a wordless gasp of wonder. He held himself back, waiting until she was trembling in the heart of the storm before he pushed deeply into her body. Molly trembled at the impact.
She wrapped Harry close and clung to him as he shuddered heavily in the throes of his own release.
It wasn’t until he sprawled on top of her, the skin of his shoulders damp with perspiration and the elemental scent of sex thick in the air, that Molly realized the truth.
It had been good. Better than good. It had been a fantastic, deliciously erotic, incredibly sensual experience. But something had been different this time.
Something had been missing.
She lay awake for a long while afterward. Granted, she did not have a great deal of experience, which made logical comparisons difficult. But last night her body had been tuned to Harry’s in some way she could not explain. Tonight everything within her, each nerve and muscle, had tried to recapture the experience. She had come close, but it had not been the same.
The sense of resonance was missing.
Last night Harry had opened a locked door and invited her into a secret chamber. Tonight that door had remained firmly closed. Molly knew she would not be fully satisfied until he unlocked it again.
She awoke alone in the big bed. For a few drowsy seconds it seemed entirely normal to have the bed to herself. Then she opened her eyes and saw the unfamiliar expanse of night sky outside the wall of windows. Her first clear thought was that there was too much darkness. Then she remembered that she was in Harry’s bed, and she should not be alone. Harry should have been there with her.
She stirred and peered at the clock. The illuminated numbers informed her that it was nearly three in the morning. It didn’t take ESP to figure out that Harry had left the bed to go back to the stack of proposals in his study.
Molly folded her hands behind her head and contemplated what she had learned about Harry. A pattern was emerging.
He had come to Seattle within a year after the deaths o
f his parents. She had no doubt but that he had told himself he wanted to make peace between the families in honor of his mother and father. But Molly suspected there was more to the story than that. Perhaps more than even Harry himself knew.
He’d had every right to turn to the Strattons and the Trevelyans after he’d found himself completely alone in the world. They were his blood kin. They had accepted him, but Molly was learning that the acceptance had come at a high price. Everyone wanted something from Harry.
Molly sat up abruptly and threw aside the covers. She got out of bed, tugged on her robe, and padded, barefoot, down the hall to Harry’s study.
A shaft of light was visible through the half-opened door. Molly walked quietly into the room.
She knew that she had not made a sound on her way down the hall, but Harry must have heard her approach. He was seated behind his desk, watching the door, waiting for her. He was wearing a dark gray terry-cloth robe. The pattern of intensely contrasted light and shadow from the halogen lamp etched his stark features. His midnight dark hair was tousled from the pillow. His amber eyes glowed with the anticipation of a raptor that is just about to sink talons into prey.
Molly knew at once what had happened. “You found the proposal you were looking for?”
“About three minutes ago. Take a look.”
Molly crossed the room to the desk and glanced at the papers spread out in front of Harry. “I remember that one.” She craned her head to read the cover page. “Proposal for the Construction of a Device to Measure Paranormal Brain Waves, by Wharton Kendall. I liked it, but you vetoed it, the same way you did all the others.”
“Paranormal brain waves? Give me a break.” Harry shot her a disgusted look. “Kendall is the kind of inventor who gives other inventors a bad name. A classic crackpot. No solid scientific training. No formal technical background. No originality or true insight. And to top it off, he’s into this damn paranormal garbage. I should have remembered this guy right off.”
“Hmm.” Molly tapped one finger absently on the desk. “What makes you think Kendall’s the person who played those nasty pranks on me?”