“You avoided Pascal when you sneaked out, Willow. He’s been waiting to talk to you all day.”
“I’ll talk to him later. Among other things, he’s been trying to get into my mind. That’s not allowed.”
“Uh-uh,” Ben said, hoping he sounding adamantly opposed to such behavior. “He can ask, but he can’t come in without your permission. Did he ask?”
She puffed with irritation. “Well, yes.”
“So what’s the problem? You didn’t let him in.”
Willow glanced at him quickly. “He never used to try. They’ve started taking me for granted. They think I’ve accepted all the…you know, and they intend to draw me into the whole…you know.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly, feeling smug. “I know all about it.”
She rolled her window down a few inches, and warm air rushed into the van. People on their way out for the night hooted and laughed, and a horn played a mournful lament in the distance.
“Do not get out of this van while I’m in the house,” she said. “If I need you, I will let you know.”
“That’s an interesting comment.” He leaned to kiss her and felt the softening. He drew back an inch. “How will you do that?”
“Ben!” She sounded as if she were complaining, but her hand ran lightly down his cheek. “Get down out of sight. We’re almost there.”
“I asked how I’ll know if you need me.”
She pulled to a stop beside the Brandts’ tall front hedges. “If I need you, I will open my mind, Ben, and invite you in.”
“That’s my girl,” he said, and crossed his arms, making himself comfortable. She was giving in, even if slowly.
Willow climbed to the sidewalk and reached back for her briefcase. She popped up and ruffled Ben’s long hair, then quickly escaped when he tried to grab her.
From what she could see on her way to the front door, no sign of Ben’s mischief remained. The beautiful house glowed warmly in what was left of the disappearing daylight.
She barely touched the bell before the door swept open.
“There you are, Willow. I’m Chloe Brandt.” And Chloe Brandt was worth looking at. Not classically beautiful, but a one-of-a-kind woman with sharp features and black hair pulled straight back from a heart-shaped hairline. Large, deep brown eyes didn’t quite match the warmth in her voice, but her red lips curved in a naturally sultry smile and there were dimples in her cheeks.
An A-line burgundy shift accentuated memorable breasts and stopped six inches above the knees on fabulous legs.
“Willow Millet.” Willow shook hands.
Naturally, an impressive professional floral arrangement graced the central table in the foyer. Their shoes clipped on marble tile all the way to the kitchen Willow remembered a bit too well.
“Is it all right if we talk in here?” Chloe said. “It’s my favorite room. Don’t they say everyone always gathers in the kitchen?”
“Something like that.”
“Are you okay?” Chloe spun around. “You’ve had a horrible time and it’s so unfair.”
How could Chloe be certain it was unfair, Willow wondered. “I’m fine,” she said. The woman was only trying to be kind.
“Good. Val will be in shortly. He and Preston are talking about enlarging the cabana. Preston…you met him at the party that night, didn’t you?”
Willow nodded and had a fleeting memory of the man’s smile and his naked body before he jumped into the pool. She felt overheated at once.
“I thought so. Preston makes sure he meets everyone. He doesn’t talk about it, but he’s an architect, even if he doesn’t really practice—he’s so determined to publish his novel. But Val likes to get his opinion on things. He’ll be coming in for a drink with Val. And they’re both such curious creatures, they’re bound to want to hang around and listen in to us. Will you be okay with that?”
As if she could refuse. “Absolutely,” she said.
This woman didn’t look as if she suffered from shyness, as had been suggested. She moved confidently and spoke confidently.
“Chloe?” a female voice called just before the front door slammed shut again. “Where are you, pet? It’s Vanity.”
Chloe expelled a breath through pursed lips. “In the kitchen,” she said, not meeting Willow’s eyes. “Vanity’s a family friend,” she said quietly.
But the emotion Willow felt was too strong for a simple friendship. A complicated pull and push, uncertainty, questions about trust.
“Aha,” Vanity said, sweeping into the kitchen wearing a tiny, tight, black tube top, skinny black capris and expanses of smooth skin.
“Hi, Vanity,” Chloe said, her smile anxious. “Are you okay?”
Vanity shrugged and pulled in the corners of her mouth. “Yes, sweetie. Thanks for asking.” She nodded to Willow. “Nice to see you again after all that furor.”
“Val said you had an unpleasant date,” Chloe said.
Vanity rolled her eyes. “Awful. It was like eating dinner with an octopus—a horny octopus.”
Willow laughed; she couldn’t help it. Then she cleared her throat. “Sorry. You’re so droll—and I think I may have met the same octopus somewhere.”
Both Vanity and Chloe laughed.
“Make us drinks,” Chloe told Vanity. “Since you’re here, you’ll want to sit in on my meeting with Willow and make a nuisance of yourself.”
More laughter.
Vanity didn’t ask what either of them wanted to drink. She busied herself deciding on a bottle from a cooler as large as the refrigerator. Selection made, she opened the wine and set three glasses of white on the glass kitchen table. She sat down and beckoned.
With each moment, Willow felt less comfortable. They seemed determined to turn her into some sort of superconfidante and family manager. And the family consisted of more than just the Brandts.
She sat beside Vanity and pulled a folder from the briefcase.
Chloe joined them. She brought a wheel of Brie and crackers with her. “To my salvation,” she said, raising her glass and nodding to Willow. “The woman who will change my life.”
Crystal clinked and Willow took a sip of an incredible Viognier. She said, “Oh, my,” and both Chloe and Vanity laughed.
“Can you give me an overview of the services you need?” Willow said. She opened a slim binder and jotted “Brandt” across the top of the first page.
“Everything,” Chloe said.
“Oh, can’t we just enjoy our wine first?” Vanity said, drinking deeply. “We’ve got all night for the icky business stuff.” She turned aside a piece of the Brie skin, scraped a knife across the cheese and put a thin layer on a cracker.
Awkward, Willow held her hands between her knees and looked at Chloe, who raised one brow. “We can’t keep Willow too long,” she said. “She’s a working girl. Willow, I’d like to turn over the household accounts to you. That’ll mean you do all the ordering, arrange deliveries and take a good look at existing household staff. Those you approve of, keep—replace the rest.”
Willow made notes and hoped her surprise at the sweeping request didn’t show. It had sounded cold. If she did work here, she wouldn’t get rid of a soul who wasn’t causing major problems.
“There are some suppliers in place,” Chloe said, “but if you have people you prefer, feel free. You’ll be able to keep up with scheduled events from my daybook. I’ll show you later.”
Vanity crossed her legs and jiggled a high-heeled black mule from the toes of one foot. “I’m still waiting for the police to figure out what happened the other night when you were here, Willow. I don’t buy the minitornado tale.”
“Someone made a nice job of tidying up,” Willow said, avoiding Vanity’s suggestion and looking through the
