"Yes." He raised a brow, as if it was their secret.
"You didn't bring her daughter, did you? I can't imagine how she'd fit in with this crowd."
"Her…daughter?"
"Yes. That pest in Gold Creek. Amy Dane? She's Pamela's daughter."
"No, you're confused. She's Pamela's sister."
"No,
you
are confused. Amy is her daughter. Tell me you didn't bring her. When we were in Gold Creek, she irritated Dustin so much. I'd hate to give her a second chance to offend him."
He was scowling, staring blindly, his mind awhirl over her comments. She smirked with satisfaction, eager to press her point.
"When did you meet Pamela?" she inquired.
"A few months ago—when I first came to Gold Creek to check out the properties Dustin was offering."
She leaned in, feigning empathy. "May I confess something?"
He leaned in, too, supposing she was flirting with him. "What is it? Confess away."
"You seem like such an odd couple, and with her being so much older than you… well…"
"She's not older. We're both thirty."
"No, she's forty-two."
"Forty-two?"
"Yes. You're from a reputable Colorado family. I'm just mystified as to why—with her background—you'd hook up with her."
"What about her background?"
"It's so notorious."
"She's from Vegas. She's a popular socialite."
"No, she's not." She studied his eyes, a frown creasing her brow. "Oh, my goodness, she never told you."
"About what?"
"About her past. It's very seedy."
"What do you mean? Her father was a British surgeon."
"No, he wasn't. She never knew who her parents were. She was in and out of foster care, then a teenage runaway." She shuddered. "I can't bear to envision what must have happened to her as a girl. Then there are the three husbands."
"She's never been married. Where are you getting all this?"
"If you search hard enough, Chad, you can find anything on the internet."
"You investigated her?"
"Yes."
"Why would you?"
"She's so…
beneath
you. I thought I would be doing you a favor by letting you know the truth." She shrugged. "I'm sorry. It wasn't my intent to stir up any trouble."
She spun as if to walk away, and he reached out and clasped hold of her wrist. He slipped a business card into her hand.
"That's my phone number and email address," he said. "Next time you're near a computer, would you send me a few links?"
"I'd be glad to, but I'll need a favor in return."
"Why am I not surprised?" He snickered in a snide way. "What is it?"
"I don't want Dustin to ever again have to suffer an encounter with Amy Dane."
"He won't."
She smiled a feral smile, permitting him a glimpse of how ruthless she could be. He didn't flinch away from it, but he'd definitely received her message.
"You have to promise me, Chad. I'm afraid I have to insist."
"I've already made arrangements for her to leave Gold Creek. Her house is the first one I'll close down. She's agreed to go right after Christmas."
"You're sure?"
"I gave her some moving money myself. She's probably packing even as we speak."
Chantal nodded. "Marvelous."
She put his card into her bag, then sauntered off to locate Jacquelyn Merriweather. The imposing woman would have strong opinions as to who Dustin should choose for his bride, and she'd have to be slyly cajoled into accepting Chantal's plan to join the family so that, ultimately, she believed it was her own idea.
When Chantal had initially arrived at the party, they'd been introduced, and it was time they became more intimately acquainted.
CHAPTER NINE
"Don't make excuses for him."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
Dustin sighed and nestled deeper into the dusty, antique sofa. His mother, Jacquelyn, was across the room and glaring at him as if he was still ten years old.
Her party the night before had been a huge success, but she refused to be happy about it. She was a miserable person who'd never been able to find any joy or contentment in life. Unfortunately, she'd inflicted herself on three children that she'd never wanted and certainly had had no ability to raise.
He and his sister and brother had grown up like orphans, had been shuttled off to boarding schools and reared as if they'd had no family. Their parents' marriage had been like a bad train wreck that never ended. The cars kept falling off the rails, and the rubble had piled up until his father passed away and his secrets had been exposed.
"He embarrassed me with his absence," she complained. "He deliberately humiliated me."
"He did not," Dustin said. They were discussing Lucas and the fact that he hadn't attended.
"He's the eldest Merriweather son," Jacquelyn continued, "yet he didn't see fit to make an appearance. Everyone was talking about it."
"I didn't hear it mentioned."
"Then you weren't listening, but you never do, do you?"
Lucas hadn't come, because Faith hadn't been invited. Even if she'd been welcomed by Jacquelyn, Dustin was certain Lucas would have stayed away.
There was too much water under the bridge between Lucas and their mother—all of it due to his son, Bryce—and Jacquelyn was the world's biggest snob. She would never accept ordinary, kind Faith Benjamin. No matter what a great wife Faith might be to Lucas, Jacquelyn would never relent.
She was a brittle woman, and Dustin predicted that she would die old and alone, unloved and unmourned by anyone. But her isolation was her own fault, and he didn't feel sorry for her. She could change whenever she got tired of being such a cold-hearted, callous witch.
Often, he worried that he was too much like her, that he possessed all her worst traits. He'd never been in therapy, but he didn't have to visit a psychologist to recognize that he'd built barriers in order to protect himself from the hurt and loss inflicted by his parents. He was ruthless and unfeeling; he had trouble attaching and bonding.
When Lucas's relationship with Faith had first started, Dustin had spewed the same sort of ridiculous statements about her that Jacquelyn constantly uttered: that Faith was a gold-digger, that she should be crushed under the weight of the Merriweather name and position.
But he was eager to be friends with his brother, with his nephew, and he was struggling so hard to like Faith, to drown out his mother's messages.
"Their wedding is on Christmas Eve," he said.
She sniffed with offense. "Don't remind me."
"If you don't attend, I don't know how you'll ever mend your rift with Lucas."
"Why would I want to mend it? He's behaving like a fool. If he's determined to throw his life away on that Vegas con artist, I can't stop him."
"She's nice, Jacquelyn."
"Who?"
"Faith Benjamin. She's really nice, and she'll be so good for him."
"You met her?" Jacquelyn gasped, scowling as if Dustin had committed a hideous betrayal.
"Yes, I spent Thanksgiving with them." Dustin shrugged. "He's happy."
"He's having an affair," she countered. "He'll get over her soon enough, and then where will he be? Married to her, is where. Just wait till you see the financial mess we have to deal with in untangling him from her."
Dustin remembered the smile on Lucas's face as they'd sat at the dining room table in Faith's home. Lucas had been so content, and Dustin didn't think Lucas would ever regret wedding Faith. But he was exhausted from arguing with his mother, so he didn't say so.
Chantal was on her way over from the hotel to have breakfast with them, then he was taking her out to the airport to fly back to LA. He was supposed to have met with Chad Paltrow before he left, but he'd received a message that Chad had to cancel, so that unpleasantness had been avoided.
During the party, Jacquelyn and Chantal had been inseparable. They were two peas in a pod, could almost be mother and daughter. They were both beautiful, cruel, cunning.
After observing them together, it had dawned on Dustin that Chantal had designs on him that went beyond their occasional dating, which was aggravating in the extreme. He'd been very clear—as he was with every woman—that he had no intention of ever marrying or engaging in a serious, committed relationship. Chantal was fully aware of his opinion.
In the meantime, Jacquelyn had requested that Chantal join them for breakfast before Dustin realized the invitation had been extended.
He didn't want Chantal in the mansion, didn't like how she so obviously coveted the place, but she would arrive any second. The maid had just announced that the buffet was ready. They were simply watching for Chantal's cab to pull into the driveway.
His mother glanced out the front window, and he assumed she'd seen Chantal, but instead, she frowned.
"What is it?" Dustin inquired.
"There's someone out on the sidewalk. She's staring at the house as if trying to decide whether to come up and knock on the door."
Dustin rose from the couch and looked outside, and his heart literally skipped a beat as he saw that it was Amy.
Ever since he'd sneaked out of her apartment in November, he'd thought about her constantly. It had taken acute physical effort not to call, not to email.
Whenever the urge grew particularly strong, he'd ask himself the question: why? Why contact her? Why act as if he was envisioning a future for them?
He didn't have female friends. He dated women to have sex with them, and that was the extent of his interactions. So where did that leave him with her?
He couldn't visit Gold Creek once or twice a year and expect her to welcome him with open arms. In order for her to accept such bad behavior, she'd have to be jaded and cynical like his feminine acquaintances in Los Angeles. But she wasn't, so he had to avoid her at all costs.
Yet as he'd stepped off the plane in Colorado, he'd been nearly giddy with excitement at the prospect of being so close to her. He could have pointed his rental car toward the high country, driven onto the interstate, and in a few hours, he'd have been in Gold Creek.
He hadn't done it, though, and he'd been proud of his restraint, but now, all his best laid plans had unraveled.
How had she learned that he was in Colorado? What could she possibly want?
"Do you know who she is?" Jacquelyn asked.
"Yes."
"She's not one of your…girls, is she?"
"One of my
girls
?" Dustin rolled his eyes. "Really, Jackie, I'm not sixteen anymore."
"Don't call me Jackie. My name is Jacquelyn, and I insist that you use it."
"Yes, Jackie," he said, just to aggravate her.
He stood and started out.
"Where are you going?" she demanded.
"Out to talk to her."
"Chantal will be here any minute."
"I realize that."
"Talk to her if you must, but don't you dare bring her inside."
"Why not?"
"I like Chantal, and I won't have you upsetting her."
"Heaven forbid."
"Don't be smart. Chantal is perfect for you."
"In your mind maybe."
"Yes, in my mind, and you should be putting her in yours, too. You're not getting any younger."
"I'm twenty-eight, Jackie."
"Yes, you are, and you need to think about settling down and carrying on the family name. Your brother is shackling himself to that…that…Benjamin woman, so it's imperative you wed someone more commensurate with your station in life."
"You act as if we're in Victorian England."
"There's nothing wrong with acknowledging your rank and picking your bride accordingly."
"News flash: I'm never marrying."
He stomped out to the vestibule. He'd actually broken down and purchased a wool coat for the trip. He'd spent too many freezing days in Gold Creek, shivering in his leather jacket, and this time, he was determined to be warm. He grabbed it and shoved his arms into the sleeves.
With a hard yank, he opened the door, and it occurred to him that he was furious and in no condition to speak with Amy.
What would he tell her? Why would she travel all the way to Denver? She had to be feeling rejected, and he hoped she wouldn't make a scene. There wasn't a thing she could say that would have any effect on their situation.
He lived in LA, and he was heading there as soon as he finished eating breakfast with his mother and his part-time mistress. Amy didn't factor into that equation and never would.
It was a cold rationalization, but he'd always been callous. Amy was merely some of the carnage Dustin typically generated as he bumbled through life, wounding and betraying everyone who'd ever tried to get close.