“I hired you to do a job, and don’t intend to tell you how to go about it, so don’t get your back up. I’m telling you she’s chosen to banish me and mine from her plane of existence, which is just fine by me. The one good thing I can say about her is once she’s made up her mind on something, she follows through.”
“But you don’t have any objection to me talking to her, involving her.”
“None. Your best bet is to write her—very formally—and introduce yourself, being sure to use the doctor part, and any other impressive credentials you might have at hand. If you tell her you intend to do a family history on the Harpers, and play up how honored you would be to interview her, and so on, she might agree.”
“This is the one you kicked out of the house, right?”
“In a manner of speaking. I don’t recall telling you about that.”
“I talk to people. She’s not the one you chased off with a Weedwacker.”
Amusement, very faint, ran over her face. “You are talking to people.”
“Part of the job.”
“I suppose. No, I didn’t chase her with a Weedwacker. That was the gardeners. And it wasn’t a Weedwacker, come to that. It was a fan rake, which was unlikely to do any serious damage. If I hadn’t been so mad and thinking more clearly, I’d’ve grabbed the loppers those idiots had used on my mimosa trees. At least with those I could’ve given them a good jab in the ass as they skeddadled.”
“Loppers. Would those be . . .” He made wide scissoring motions with both arms.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Ouch. Back to your cousin. Why’d you give her the boot?”
“Because when I invited her, to my lasting regret, to a family barbecue here years ago, she called my sons disreputable brats and stated—she without chick or child—that if I were a proper mother I’d’ve taken a switch to them regularly. She then called Harper a born liar, as he was entertaining some of his young cousins with stories about the Bride, and told him to shut his mouth.”
He angled his head. “And still she lives.”
Temper had brought a flush to her cheeks, but his comment had a small smile curving her lips. “She was on shaky ground already as she constantly criticized my parenting, my housekeeping, my lifestyle, and occasionally my morals. But nobody stands on my ground and attacks my children. While I did consider murder, knowing my quarry, I was certain banishment from Harper House was a more painful punishment.”
“As I believe I said before, you’re a hardass. I like that.”
“Good thing, ’cause that’s not going to change at this late date. In any case, on her way out the door, she cursed my name and said it was a black day when Harper House came into my grasping, incompetent hands.”
“She sounds delightful. I’ll write her tomorrow.”
“Just don’t mention you’re working for me.”
“It wouldn’t be hard for her to find out.”
“True enough, but the less you mention me the better. Anything else on your mind?”
“Other than wondering how you manage to work all day and still look amazing, no. Nothing that springs, anyway.”
She waited another moment, nodded. “You’re not going to mention it.”
“What would it be?”
“The visit my son paid to you last night.”
“Oh.” Because she was watching his face, she caught the flicker of surprise that moved over it before he picked up the glasses he’d taken off and began to polish them with his sweatshirt. “He told you?”
“Yes. He was angry, so he acted rashly.”
“Like grabbing a fan rake instead of loppers.”
Her laugh snuck out. “Very like. We have, both of us, horrible tempers. Which is why we both make a concerted effort not to lose them. It doesn’t always work. I’d like to apologize for his behavior.”
“I can’t accept.”
There was distress, something he rarely saw from her, in her eyes. “Mitch, I know he overstepped, but he’s young and—”
“You misunderstand. I can’t accept an apology when there’s no need for one. From either of you. He was looking out for you.”
“I don’t need, or want, looking out for.”
“Maybe not, but that’s not going to stop someone who loves you from trying. We discussed, came to understand each other, and that’s all there was to it.”
“And you’re not going to elaborate on that.”
“It was between him and me.”
“You men do have your codes of honor.”
“You weren’t going to tell me about this latest harassment.”
For an instant, she thought of the phone call from New York, then tucked it away again. “Nothing to tell. I’m dealing with it.”
“What’s happened since last night? You’re good, so I must’ve caught you off guard. What else happened?”
“Just a minor irritation, one I’ve already handled. It’s not important. More accurately, I won’t let it be important. If I do, it makes me the victim, and he wins. I won’t be his victim. That’s one thing I never allowed myself to be, and I won’t start now.”
“Telling me, venting some of the stress, doesn’t make you a victim, either.”
“I’m not used to airing my problems. I’m not comfortable with it. But I appreciate the offer.”
He took her hand, held it. “Consider it a standing one. For my next offer,
“I might. Are you courting me, Mitchell?”
His thumb grazed back and forth over her hand. “I like to think I’m romancing you, Rosalind.”
“That’s a pretty word,
“If I pressured you, it wouldn’t be romance, or intimacy. Besides the fact, I imagine the door would hit me in the ass as you shoved me out of it.”
Humor danced over her face. “That’s astute. I think you’re a clever man.”
“I know I’m a besotted one.”
“Another pretty word.”
“I’ll have to be careful with them. They’re the sort of thing you’d distrust.”
“Yes, a clever man. Well.” She had a choice, and she made it. “Come upstairs.”
For the second time that night, she watched surprise run over his face. Then he lifted her hand to his lips. “Would this be serious business?”
“It would. Very serious business.”
“Then I’d love to.”
She led him out of the room, and down the hall. “The house emptied out on me tonight. So it’s just the two of us. Well, three.” She looked up at him as they walked up the stairs. “Will that bother you?”
“The fact that she may be watching.” He took a little breath. “I guess we’ll find out. Did you—” He cut himself off, shook his head.
“What?”
“No, we’ll save that.”
“All right. I hope you don’t mind putting off dinner a bit.”
As an answer he turned to her, into her, backing her against a wall. Then laying his lips on hers.
It began warm and soft, then edged up to heat, and demand. She trembled, just once, a shiver of anticipation that spread through her system and reminded her what it was like to be poised on the brink.
He lifted his head, angled it. “You were saying?”
It made her laugh, and feel easy. Taking his hand, she drew him into her bedroom. Shut the door.
He took a moment, scanned the room with its lovely old four-poster and tall windows with the curtains drawn back to let in the night.
“It looks like you. The room,” he explained, taking in the silvery green walls, the antiques, the clean lines and elegant details. “Beautiful and classy with a simple elegance that reflects an innate grace and sense of style.”
