But had they?
A part of him wished to hell that what they’d had, what they’d shared, would have lasted. Or that it still had a chance of making it. But before he could stew about her comment, the phone rang.
The driver pushed a button on the dashboard, then answered.
“Hello? Yes, just a minute. I’ll let you speak to him.” The driver glanced in the rearview mirror. “It’s for you, sir. It’s your brother. I’ll transfer the call to the back and raise the privacy shield.”
“But how do I…?”
“There.” The driver pointed to a control panel. “It’s near the climate control.”
“Thanks.” Jason waited for the panel to rise, then took the call.
“It’s good to have you back,” Mike said. “How was your flight?”
“It was okay.”
“Did you ever find Pedro?”
“Actually, I stopped at a local honky-tonk on my way out of town.” Jason had been wearing the clothes Betsy had bought him so that he’d blend in better with the locals, and he couldn’t help thinking that it had brought him better luck. “I talked to a couple of guys who knew Pedro.”
“Oh, yeah? Have they seen him lately?”
“One guy seemed to be the spokesman. He wanted to know who I was and what I wanted with Pedro. So I gave him my name and told him we were friends and that we’d worked together in San Diego.”
“What’d they say to that?”
“That they’d give him the message.”
A beat of silence followed. Then Mike asked, “Do you think he’ll call?”
“If he gets the word, he will. We weren’t exactly friends, but we had a connection that went beyond management-employee.”
“I told you to watch out and not get too close to your subordinates.”
Jason clamped his mouth shut, even though he wanted to snap at his older brother and say, “Look who’s talking?” After all, hadn’t getting cozy with female subordinates and rubbing elbows-or whatever-with them gotten Michael into trouble?
Not that Jason was saying that he was guilty of Cheryl’s charge. But why give people a reason to believe the worst?
“You know,” he said instead, “my relationship with Pedro could prove to be helpful.”
“I hope that it is.”
They ended the call, and Jason glanced out the window, watching the passing scenery, the stretch of the Pacific near the Del Mar racetrack.
He had a turf club membership, he realized. And he spent a lot of time there during racing season. But not because he was a big gambler. He just liked the horses, the people who worked them.
Is that why he’d settled into Brighton Valley so easily? Was that why he wasn’t at all happy about coming home?
He suspected that he had an issue with his older brother. That while he loved him and there was a loyalty factor, he didn’t always respect him.
Had he always known that? Or had the amnesia and the time away highlighted the things that had been wrong in his life, the things he’d just accepted before because he’d been groomed to be a part of Alvarez Industries?
He wished he had the answer to that, as he settled back into his seat.
Ten minutes later, the limousine pulled in front of a sprawling house on the beach.
Was that another result of the amnesia? he wondered. Or was it due to the time he’d spent at Doc’s ranch in Texas?
The limousine driver opened the door for him, and as he stepped out of the car, he was handed a key to the house.
“I’m not sure if the alarm is set,” the driver said. “If it is, I can’t help you there.”
That could prove to be a problem, Jason realized. “Would you wait here until I find out? If the police arrive, you’ll have to vouch for me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Fortunately, as Jason let himself in to the foyer, he saw that the alarm was off.
The scent of lemon oil and cleaning products suggested the reason for it. The maid came in a couple of days a week, and he usually left it off for her. He suspected that it had remained off for the entire time he’d been gone.
After waving the driver on, he entered the house and scanned the model-home-type furnishings, with everything in its place.
“Home,” he repeated, hoping he would come to believe it.
He made his way to the kitchen, where the breakfast nook window looked out to the ocean.
It was a great view. Did he enjoy sitting at the table or out in the yard? Did he take comfort in the ocean air, like he’d taken comfort in the sights and sounds of the ranch at night?
He cast a glance at the kitchen furnishings, the black marble countertops and stainless-steel appliances. He wandered to the refrigerator and opened it, finding it fully stocked with a variety of beverages.
How about that? Someone had been ready for him.
Katrina? he wondered. Did she come to his house often? Did she have her own key? Had she left her feminine mark on the place?
So far, he hadn’t seen any indication that she had.
He was glad of that because he had no inclination to see the woman-no matter what she may have meant to him.
After taking out a cold beer from the fridge, he popped open the flip top, then closed the door. On the counter near the sink, he spotted a telephone-answering machine combination.
A red blinking light indicated he had messages. So he sauntered over to the counter and pushed the play button.
“You have twelve messages,” he was told.
Beep.
“Hi, Jason. It’s Katrina. Give me a call when you get home. I haven’t seen you in a while and thought that it might be nice to have dinner.”
Beep. “It’s me again, Jason. Where are you? You didn’t return my call yesterday. Are you out of town?”
Beep. “Okay, I’m getting worried now. No one at your office will tell me where you are. And you never mentioned leaving. What’s up?”
Beep. “I give up, Jason. This is the last call you’re getting from me. I realize we don’t have a commitment, but common courtesy doesn’t cost a dime. Unless you have a very good reason for shining me, don’t bother calling back.”
Beep. “Oh, my gosh, Jason. I just heard that you disappeared. Are you okay?”
Jason slowly shook his head. Clearly, Katrina wasn’t the brightest star in the galaxy. How the hell was he going to call her back if he was missing?
Beep. “Okay, Jason. This is the last call you’ll get from me.”
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
He wondered if the hang-ups had been her.
Beep. “Jason, this is Jim Felton, with Felton, Thurman and Grady. Give me a call when you get in. I’d like to meet with you and discuss strategy. Counsel for your insurance company tells me that even though the injuries weren’t terribly serious, there’s definitely going to be a lawsuit coming down the pike. But the good news is that I spoke to the D.A., and there won’t be any criminal charges filed against you for the car accident.”
Beep.
