“Always.”
As he pulled her closer, she wondered if Jed’s “behavior” was as obvious as hers. It had to be, she firmly told herself.
It had to be.
The sounds of someone moving about the bedroom sifted through the layers of Jed’s sleep, and he opened one eye. He instantly closed it against
the bright morning sunlight streaming through the bedroom windows. Before he closed his eye, though, he glimpsed Burrows setting a coffee tray on the nightstand.
Dammit, he thought blearily, why the hell …
His morning fog immediately cleared. He swore under his breath, knowing Rae would be embarrassed that the butler had discovered them. He’d intended to be a gentleman and sneak back into the trophy room, but with each moment it had been harder to let go of the night.
Very carefully, so he wouldn’t disturb Rae, who was still sleeping, he raised his head and put a finger to his lips to hush Burrows, then motioned toward the bedroom door.
Without a word or even a nod of acknowledgement, Burrows set a newspaper next to the tray and left the room.
Puzzled, Jed frowned for a moment, then shrugged. Just as long as the man was gone, he thought. He turned back to the woman sleeping next to him. One bare shoulder was exposed from under the satin coverlet, tempting him to kiss it. He did, then tenderly lifted the strands of dark hair away from her face. Her features gleamed like fragile ivory in the morning light. He couldn’t imagine a time when he would not be in awe of her beauty. Rachel Barkeley had become an obsession, and he never wanted to be free of her.
“Rae,” he whispered giving her a gentle shake, as the aroma of hot coffee filled the room. “Coffee.”
She mumbled something unintelligible and rolled over on her stomach. Jed admired the soft line of her spine and decided the heck with the coffee.
He leaned over, and starting at the nape of her neck, kissed his way down the lovely length of feminine back. He pushed the covers lower. Rae finally stirred. Sighing, she rolled over, and he found himself faced with the delightful decision of which breast to honor first.
“Good morning,” she murmured in a low sexy voice, opening her eyes. Her hands began to trace patterns on his shoulders.
He gave her a wicked smile. “Good morning.”
The sight of her, sleepy and contented, was too much for him, and he bent his head.…
“Do I smell coffee?” she asked, just as his lips were about to enclose one pouting nipple.
Jed smothered a groan at her reminder of Burrows’s visit. He raised his head. “About the coffee … Burrows brought it.”
Her eyes widened, and she glanced over at the nightstand and saw the coffee service. Returning her gaze to him, she asked hesitantly, “Burrows was here?”
He nodded. “I’m sorry, Rae. I meant to go back to the trophy room—”
“I’m glad you didn’t.” She touched his mustache. “Very glad.” She chuckled and added, “Anyway, I doubt if Burrows was surprised.”
Jed grinned at her, privately pleased that she was accepting their relationship. “Well, his eyebrows didn’t shoot off the top of his head.”
She sat up against the headboard, pulling the satin coverlet with her. Reaching over to the night-stand, she lifted the already filled cup from the tray and took a sip. Leaning back, she closed her eyes and sighed. “Bless the man. Good hot coffee.”
Jed made a face. “What about me?”
Opening her eyes again, she held out the cup to him. “There’s only one cup. I suppose we’ll have to share.”
“I didn’t mean—”
The bedroom door swung open again. He immediately checked that he and Rae were properly covered, then watched in disgust as Burrows entered the room carrying another cup and saucer. A newspaper was tucked under his arm, and the dogs followed behind him. Samson immediately headed for Jed’s side of the bed, while Delilah sat at the foot. Jed wondered if Rae’s bedroom was doubling as a train station. Everybody seemed to wander into it at the damnedest times.
“Good morning, miss,” Burrows said. “It is a beautiful day, although chilly.”
Seemingly not bothered by his presence, Rae greeted him in return.
The butler set the cup and newspaper next to the tray. “Will there be anything else, miss?”
“Nothing, thank you.”
The butler turned and left the room.
“Doesn’t he know how to knock?” Jed asked, as he petted Samson’s massive head.
“True butlers never knock, Jed,” she said, with a gleam of laughter in her eyes. “They simply shut the door again if they’re about to interrupt something they shouldn’t. Also, they never see or hear anything which would cause embarrassment; their only job is to anticipate their employers’ comfort. My father used to say good butlers were like priests. They never betrayed your secrets.”
“I’ll keep it in mind next time I have to make a
confession,” he said, smiling wryly, then pointed to the nightstand. “Now that I seem to have my own cup, how about pouring?”
“Bossy. You’ll probably want this, too.” She handed him one of the newspapers, and after pouring the coffee, passed the cup.
The coffee was strong and still hot, nearly burning his tongue when he sipped the brew. Glancing at the headlines, he said, “This has got to be the second best way to wake up.” He turned and leered at her. “You are the first.”
She chuckled. “Flatterer.”
Giving the dogs a glance, he said, “And much as I would like to wake up both ways this morning, I have no desire to give an X-rated performance in front of the dogs. Or Burrows.”
“I should hope not. Can I borrow this?” Without waiting for his answer, she picked up the business section of the paper and flipped through the pages, stopping at the stock market quotes.
“Watching your stocks?” he asked dryly. There were definite drawbacks to luxury, he acknowledged.
“My clients’, actually. Damn! KSL is down another quarter.”
Surprised, Jed set his cup back on the saucer. “Since when are you a stockbroker?”
She grinned at him. “Since I was twenty-one. You know that.”
“Rae,” he said patiently. “I knew a lot about you as a child, and I know that you are an intelligent, sexy, gentle, loving, honorable, stubborn—”
“Stubborn!” she exclaimed.
“Woman,” he continued unperturbed. “But you’ve neglected a few dry facts, sweetheart.”
“Good thing you said ‘intelligent’ first,” she grumbled, shoving the paper aside. “I’m also a licensed stockbroker.”
“You’re kidding!”
She frowned at him. “What’s the matter? Don’t I look intelligent enough for that?”
“Of course you do,” he said hastily. “I guess I have this stereotyped view that wealthy people don’t work at anything.”
“They do, if they had a father like mine.” There was a faraway smile on her face. “He believed in giving his children what he called ‘seed money.’ It was actually an investment in our ability, since we had to start our own businesses with it and pay him a cut of the profits. Figuring the overhead would be low and profits high, I got some friends to let me invest
their
money on the stock market.” She chuckled. “You should have seen my father’s face when he found out what my older brother did with his.”
“What?” Jed asked, curious.
“Ever hear of the Living Fit Woman exercise spas?”
He nodded.
“Well, that’s Rand; he owns the chain. I think we bewildered my father with our choices.” She was silent for a moment. “He died last year.”
“I know,” Jed said. “I read it in the papers at the time. I’m sorry, Rae.”
She smiled. “You would have liked him, Jed. Anyway, that’s about it for dry facts, unless you want to see my college diploma. Oh! I own a small
townhouse in Manhattan that I’ll probably be selling now. What are your dry facts?”
Jed laughed. “I’m a fairly well-adjusted man, who has very few vices since I gave up smoking three years ago. I have an apartment in Center City, no debts, and money in the bank. I guess you could say I’m well off, although not wealthy.”
“Does it bother you that I am?” she asked as a worried frown crossed her brow.
“No. I figure you didn’t ask for it, so it’s not your fault.”
“Chauvinist.”
He dipped his head. “Thank you. I also like to lie naked in bed with an equally naked you and discuss dry facts.”
He leaned over and kissed her leisurely. Her arms crept around his neck, as their lips clung to each other with morning passion.…
Samson woofed, breaking them apart.
“I think he’s telling us we should get up,” Rae said in dry amusement. “I guess we should. I have to ‘stockmarket’ first before I help you with our problem.”
Wrapping the coverlet around her, she slid out of bed and headed for the bathroom.
Jed gave the dog a dirty look.
“Phoebe, you need to have your money hidden away right now,” Rae repeated for the fourth time to her sobbing client. Seated behind the antique Hepplewhite desk in the library, she eyed the stock price updates scrolling up her computer screen and wished that it was still Sunday. No wonder it
was called Blue Monday, she thought in exasperation, knowing Jed was in the drawing room working just as hard on the site problem.
“Eric’s lawyer is insisting on a three-million-dollar settlement!” Phoebe Collins wailed into the phone, shattering Rae’s thoughts. “He says that would have been Eric’s potential earnings if he hadn’t married me. Eric’s last play was
The Season of the Bear
, and it flopped off Broadway. He hasn’t written a thing since, but I didn’t care about that, Rae. I loved him so much. He’s claiming I smother his creative flow!”
Rae readjusted the receiver against her sore ear. Phoebe’s husbands got greedier with every divorce, she thought, and glanced heavenwards for divine guidance. “I know that the last thing you want to think about right now is your stocks, but you’re going to have to, Phoebe.”
“No! I—”
Rae broke in. “They can help you now. People not only make investments to make more money, they also make investments because they don’t want other people to get all their money. With Eric asking for such a large settlement, the last thing you need to do is to show earnings.”
“So how do I avoid that?” the woman asked with a sniffle.
At last, Rae thought, Phoebe was listening. She proceeded to explain potential growth investments. The trick, though, was in the growing. “Check with your lawyer, but I think you’ll find that he’ll agree about offering Eric a reasonable cash settlement and a block or blocks of shares in a firm that has the potential to reach the sum Eric is
asking for. A new fashion house, or a wildcat oil company, maybe. Something along those lines. Of course, it would have to be with people who had already proven their know-how in the business, otherwise Eric and his lawyer wouldn’t touch it.”
“But Eric could make millions and millions if the wells come in!”
“There is that,” Rae conceded. “It all depends on whether he’s willing to take a risk, Phoebe. In either event, your outlay would be much less at settlement, and you can probably write it off as a loss over several years.” Keeping her voice neutral, she added, “Of course, should the stock pay off and Eric make millions and millions, his financial situation will be entirely different. I would imagine that you could sue for alimony at that point.”
Phoebe gasped loudly. “Find something good, and I’ll drain the bum for every cent he makes!”
When Rae finally hung up the phone, she couldn’t help chuckling. Phoebe was out for revenge now. Still, it was the woman’s own fault for falling in love with the wrong man.
Her amusement faded, when she remembered that only yesterday she’d thought Jed was the wrong man. Jed was the right man at the wrong time. Not the wrong time, she amended, knowing that there was never a wrong time for love. They just had a little problem with the estate. All they had to do was find the solution.
She reminded herself she had another little problem with Jed. She didn’t know if he felt the same
way she did. She forced the thought out of her head. It was better to take one problem at a time. Once the estate was out of the way, then she could concentrate on Jed.
Burrows came into the room and set a coffee tray on her desk. Rae grinned at it, doubting if she’d ever be able to think of coffee without thinking of Burrows.
“The cleaning service has arrived, miss.” He tightened his lips. “I hope that they will do a proper job this time.”
“Let me know if they don’t, and I’ll speak to whoever is in charge,” she said. She privately admitted that the cleaning service could hose the place down with industrial-strength disinfectant, and Burrows would still grumble.
The butler nodded, then cleared his throat. “Mr. Jed moved several of his things into your bedroom, miss.”
She knew Burrows was obliquely asking about the change in household arrangements. She also knew that he was signifying his approval of Jed by using his first name, and she hid a smile of pleasure. “That’s fine, Burrows.”
The phone rang, and she groaned. It was probably Phoebe again, wanting her to buy shares in some wild venture that might pay billions. Waving Burrows away from it, she picked up the receiver.
“Barkeley residence. Rachel Barkeley speaking.” Knowing Burrows was a stickler for proper telephone etiquette, she grinned at his look of approval as he left the room.
“Well now, this must be my lucky day,” boomed a jovial male voice into her ear. “I was calling for Jed, but frankly, young lady, I’ve been wanting to speak to you for some time now. I’m Henry Morrison, president of Atlantic Developers.”
Rae stiffened. She forced herself to relax.
“You are speaking to me now, Mr. Morrison,” she said coolly. “What can I do for you?”
“It’s about this mess your uncle made with his running off to that monastery. I’m sure you’re as unhappy about it as I am. Now, I’m a believer in the theory that any dispute can be resolved quickly … unless, of course, the lawyers get to it first.” This time hearty laughter boomed across the wire. “Wouldn’t do to let them draw it out for years, while confusing the issue all out of proportion.”
She gritted her teeth to hold back the angry words at his subtle threat. “I do see your point, Mr. Morrison.”