The Determined Groom

The Determined Groom Kate Little Once, Laurel Sutherland had been to the manner born, while Connor Northrup was the chauffeur' s son– and they' d had nothing in common but young, innocent love. Now Laurel was in desperate financial trouble, and the only man who could help was Connor– who had both money and a plan to save the woman he' d never been able to forget.He was proposing marriage, and though Connor feared that Laurel saw it as merely a business arrangement, he still had hope. Because though money couldn' t buy him love, maybe it could buy him time– time to show Laurel what had always been clear to him. Namely, that some things were just meant to be… “The Third Condition Is That You Marry Me.” Connor’s tone was smooth and businesslike. He caught her gaze and held it. Laurel stood in shock, staring back at him. “Marry you? Are you mad?” “I’ve never felt saner in my life.” Connor took a step toward her, and Laurel actually felt her knees shake. “Why?” she demanded. “Why in heaven’s name do you want to marry me? The whole idea is just…insane, Connor.” He shrugged his broad shoulders; his sensuous mouth lifted in a small, private smile. “Because I know now I should have married you seven years ago.” “That’s ridiculous,” she countered. “Oh, I don’t know about that, Laurel,” Connor stated, smiling. “If I ever had any doubt, that kiss just convinced me otherwise.” Dear Reader, Silhouette is celebrating its 20 anniversary throughout 2000! So, to usher in the first summer of the millennium, why not indulge yourself with six powerful, passionate, provocative love stories from Silhouette Desire? Jackie Merritt returns to Desire with a MAN OF THE MONTH who’s Tough To Tame. Enjoy the sparks that fly between a rugged ranch manager and the feisty lady who turns his world upside down! Another wonderful romance from RITA Award winner Caroline Cross is in store for you this month with The Rancher and the Nanny, in which a rags-to-riches hero learns trust and love from the riches-to-rags woman who cares for his secret child. Watch for Meagan McKinney’s The Cowboy Meets His Match—an octogenarian matchmaker sets up an ice-princess heiress with a virile rodeo star. The Desire theme promotion THE BABY BANK, about sperm-bank client heroines who find love unexpectedly, concludes with Susan Crosby’s The Baby Gift. Wonderful newcomer Sheri WhiteFeather offers another irresistible Native American hero with Cheyenne Dad. And Kate Little’s hero reunites with his lost love in a marriage of convenience to save her from financial ruin in The Determined Groom. So come join in the celebration and start your summer off on the supersensual side—by reading all six of these tantalizing Desire books! Enjoy! Joan Marlow Golan Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire The Determined Groom Kate Little www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) KATE LITTLE claims to have lots of experience with romance—“the fictional kind, that is,” she is quick to clarify. She has been both an author and an editor of romance fiction for over fifteen years. She believes that a good romance will make the reader experience all the tension, thrills and agony of falling madly, deeply and wildly in love. She enjoys watching the characters in her books go crazy for each other, but hates to see the blissful couple disappear when it’s time for them to live happily ever after. In addition to writing romance novels, Kate also writes fiction and nonfiction for young adults. She lives on Long Island, New York, with her husband and daughter. Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven One He couldn’t say why he had returned. A premonition perhaps. A need to touch home base before flying on to greater heights, a new job and a new life in New York City. His first position out of college, the first step in a career that looked bright and full of possibilities. He was due to start on Monday morning, his graduate degree in business in hand, the ink barely dry. He’d already moved his few possessions into a new apartment in Chelsea that he would share with a friend. Everything was set. But for some strange reason, Connor had felt the need to set foot on the Cape for a few days. To breathe the salty ocean-fresh air all day, and at night, linger on the porch of the old cottage that had barely changed since his boyhood. Since his mother’s death years ago, his father had kept everything in their small home the same. Connor often wished his mother had lived to see his graduation. She would have been so proud. Unlike his father, she had believed he could do anything with his life that he wanted to. Once she was gone, Connor had not come home very often. He and his father didn’t get along. Never had. Few questions were asked about Connor’s absence, no excuses necessary. There was nothing left for him here anymore, Connor thought as he drove along the winding road that led to the entrance of the Sutherland estate. Nothing but memories. He didn’t really know why he’d come home for the weekend. Or why he had accepted Charles Sutherland’s impromptu invitation to attend the party at the main house that night. Perhaps he’d accepted simply out of a feeling of obligation to Charles, who had been so generous to him in so many ways. That debt could never truly be repaid. The imposing sight of the Sutherland mansion at the end of the long curved driveway cut into his reverie and captured his full attention. The house was lit up like Grand Central Station, the portico bustling with guests as valets helped them emerge from shining luxury cars and long black limousines. He’d parked his own car at the end of the driveway, just in case the party became too tedious and he resorted to a quick getaway. But the moment he spotted Laurel Sutherland, he knew with utter certainty why he had come home. The instant her turquoise gaze met his—her expression, first shocked, then so very pleased—he understood. Her warm easy smile went right to his heart, like an arrow flying straight and true, striking its mark with bittersweet precision. She was surrounded by her guests, friends and family, the men in white dinner jackets, the women glittering with jewels and silken finery. Lauren herself, a vision in a summer gown of some filmy azure blue fabric, her tanned smooth shoulders bare, her skin flawless, her long golden hair pulled to one side with a jeweled clip, the rest floating over her shoulders as she moved across the softly lit patio to greet him. In her graceful form and the delicate lines of her face he saw a glimmer of the girl he had known so long ago. The brave comrade who had raced beside him on sunny beaches and through the dark, cool woods all summer long. His playmate, his friend, his kindred spirit. And yet, she was a woman now. A beautiful young woman in all her glory. The promise of her girlhood features fulfilled in a most exquisite way, he thought. Transformed from sweet innocence to alluring mystery, the high cheekbones, full lips and straight, delicate nose as perfectly formed as any famous face on the cover of a magazine. Yet, Laurel’s face glowed with something more, Connor thought. Her radiant spirit—the daring, stubborn streak of that spunky tomboy shining through, like a light from within. She held out her hand to him, the look in her eyes bright, excited and also relieved. As if, all this time, she had been waiting for him. Worried he wouldn’t arrive. But now he had come. And she felt contented. Completed. As he too felt, moving toward her. In a blinding bolt, the realization struck. This is why he had come. For Laurel. Of course. It seemed suddenly so obvious now. So right. As his large hand enfolded hers, he felt the soft skin, the delicate bones. He bent to kiss her cheek and inhaled the flowery scent of her hair. He drew away and gazed down at her to find a tender smile on her lips and a knowing look in her eyes that caused his heart to shudder with awareness. He did not release her hand, nor did she make any move to break contact. “My father told me he met you in town. He said you might come,” she said. “But I wasn’t sure you would. I remembered how much you hated fancy parties.” Her voice sounded different, deeper, richer, and the music of it worked a special magic on him. “Still hate parties,” he replied, flashing a grin. “But I wanted to see you.” Maybe seeing Laurel hadn’t been Connor’s conscious reason for coming. But as he said the words aloud, he knew it was true. When he’d met Charles Sutherland in town that day, he’d asked about Laurel, tried to picture how she’d turned out since he’d last seen her. How long had it been? Five years, since her mother had died when she was sixteen. He had attended the funeral, offered his comfort and condolences as best as he could, but had barely spoken to her after that day. After Madeleine Sutherland’s death, there were no more summers on the Cape for Laurel and her family. His father said that Charles Sutherland found it too painful to return to the place that held so many memories for him. Connor could understand, but regretted the way Charles’s grief kept Laurel away. After that time, Laurel and her older brother, Phillip, attended boarding schools during the fall and winter and spent their summers abroad, on organized trips for wealthy teenagers. Yes, they’d lost touch completely after Mrs. Sutherland had died. Charles had spoken proudly of his daughter’s accomplishments, how well she’d done at the Ivy League college she’d attended, her acceptance to a prestigious law school. Adding, almost as an afterthought, the news that she’d soon be married. A very nice boy she’d met in college, Charles explained. The wedding was less than a month away, in fact. Charles was hosting a party for the happy couple that very night. “Won’t you drop by, Connor?” Charles had urged him. “I know Laurel would love to see you.” Connor had agreed to come. He owed Charles Sutherland so much. All the opportunity and advantages in his life that now granted him such a promising future. A debt he’d vowed to someday repay. Of course he’d come to the party. It was generous, as always, of Charles to invite him. To treat Connor as a friend of the family, an equal, when in fact they both knew that Connor was no more than the caretaker’s son. As he returned to his father’s modest cottage and prepared to visit the Sutherland estate, Connor refused to acknowledge the way his heart had clenched when Laurel’s father had told him about her engagement. But he could not push away the many images of Laurel that had drifted through his mind all day—memories of the adventures they’d shared, their squabbles and reconciliations, the secrets they had entrusted to each other. He was eager to see her. And curious to meet the man she had decided to marry. His thoughts and feelings about her all day gave no hint to the impact he now felt, standing beside her. The flood of emotions was staggering, like a giant wave crashing down over him. It took all his self-control to keep up a polite front. All he knew now was that he did not want to let go of her hand. Not soon. Not ever. If anything, he wanted to pull her closer, draw her slender form to his side and bury his face in her silky hair. Could she guess? Was she feeling anything like this for him? When he met her gaze, she appeared to have been studying him. Connor wasn’t vain about his looks, but he knew by now that women found him attractive—and told him so. They liked his thick dark hair and deep brown eyes, the cleft in his strong chin and the flash of his even white teeth when he smiled. Connor never gave much thought to his looks, but as Laurel’s appraising gaze swept over him, he hoped that she liked what she saw. With a slight, sly smile on her lips, she craned her head back and stared up to take in his entire six foot two inches. “My word, you got tall,” she observed lightly. “Remember how you worried that you wouldn’t?” He laughed. It seemed a hundred years ago that he’d wasted so much time worrying needlessly about that boyhood concern. He’d forgotten he’d confided that fear to anyone. But he must have told Laurel. “You turned out pretty well yourself,” he observed, his gaze sweeping down to take in every lovely inch of her. She was tall. But not too tall. Just right, he thought. Long arms and legs, like a model. But without that starved-greyhound look he hated. She still looked as if she worked out, but now she had curves in all the right places. “Well, thanks. How nice of you to notice.” The corner of her mouth twisted up in a playful grin Connor found amazingly sexy and appealing. “Is that the line you use on the girls in New York?” “I don’t date very much,” he answered with a laugh. “Maybe I should work on my technique.” It was the truth, too. For the past six years he’d been too busy keeping up his grades and working at the part-time jobs that supplemented his scholarships. “Maybe,” she replied quietly. She paused, looked out at the crowd then back at him, her expression dreamy, wistful. “It’s good to see you again, Connor,” she added softly. “It’s great to see you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. A jazz ensemble at the far end of the patio started to play a torchy ballad Connor had always liked, but at that moment, the familiar song seemed to take on a special meaning. “Dance with me?” She smiled her assent and he led her out to the dance floor, then took her in his arms. She willingly moved closer to him, her long smooth arms looped around his neck, her head turned to the side so that her cheek nearly brushed his shoulder. He took a deep breath, inhaled her perfume and the special, unique scent of her warm skin. He felt intoxicated, drugged, cast under a powerful spell. As he tilted his head to look down at her, it was with willful effort that he suppressed an urge to dip his head just a few inches lower to drop a soft kiss on her full, berry-red mouth. How wonderful that would feel, he thought as she swayed seductively against him. How amazingly wonderful. But once he got started, how would he stop? It was hard enough to control himself, holding her like this. Her slender body fit perfectly next to his own, he thought. His bare palm made contact with the silky skin on her back, exposed by the low back-line of her gown, and Connor felt his heartbeat race. He had the immediate urge to run his hand up and down her bare back, to caress and explore every inch of smooth skin. To slide his hands down the curve of her hip and cup her adorable bottom. In short, to create a scandalizing scene, right here on the patio of the Sutherland summer mansion. A scene that would be talked about in certain circles for years to come. Laurel asked him questions, eager to catch up on the years since they’d been apart. She listened with genuine interest as he told her about his college years, his studies and the many part-time jobs he’d worked to get through school. He told her all about the new apartment in New York and his new job. He asked her questions, too, carefully sidestepping the subject of her upcoming marriage. Yet, all the while they spoke, his pulse pounded furiously, a distant part of his mind was spinning out of control with rapturous images and emotions. Had he ever danced with Laurel before? Really danced, not just playing around with music on the radio? He could only remember one time, at a Labor Day barbecue; she was sixteen and he was twenty. They were both at an awkward stage, Connor reflected, if Laurel had ever gone through such a phase. She had the requisite braces and unruly hair, the gawky angles to her figure and a touching shyness. Some stuck-up prep-school boy she had a crush on had treated her heartlessly all night long. He’d even gone so far as to tease her when she asked him to dance. Connor had watched as the tears welled up in her eyes, and did the only thing he could do—short of socking the other kid in the nose—tug Laurel out on the dance floor himself. He wasn’t much of a dancer at the time and had looked and felt ridiculous. But seeing Laurel’s tears turn to laughter had been worth it. That night he had kissed her, hadn’t he? Connor had all but forgotten that moment, until now. A soft, fleeting kiss squarely on her lips, which had brought the color rushing up to her cheeks, and left her wide-eyed and stunned. The kiss had been half-friendly…half something else. But it had ended right there, with Connor realizing that, no matter what was simmering between them, Laurel was far too young for them to be romantically involved. It wasn’t much different this time, was it? Connor reflected. Laurel was a beautiful, elegant, charming woman and, holding her in his arms, he felt the envy of every man in the place. Inexplicable feelings still simmered between them. And he still yearned to kiss her. Not an innocent peck either, but a kiss that would lead to much more. And Laurel was still out of reach. Off limits. Tonight, even more than before. How had that happened? And how had he lived all this time without her? The unbidden thought flashed through his mind. Connor considered it, feeling at first totally crazy and then utterly sane. Saner and more content than he had in a long time. As he continued to make polite small talk, another part of his mind repeated the same refrain: This is Laurel. My Laurel. We’re together again. Holding her in his arms, looking into her eyes, every loose end in his life had suddenly fallen into place. Then their conversation stopped and they slowly moved closer, their bodies moving in rhythm to the music as if one. Did she feel it too? he wondered. He believed that she must be feeling something…extraordinary, as he did. He simply could not be experiencing this amazing revelation alone. “Connor.” She said his name slowly, as if savoring the sound as it rolled off her tongue. “I’ve thought about you a lot these past years, wondered how you were doing…” Her voice trailed off. “I missed you,” she confessed. She looked up at him, with clear blue eyes that conveyed so much more than words could ever say. Her simple admission went right through him, touched his heart, his very soul, ringing within, loud and true. And he knew he was right. She felt it, too. “I’ve thought about you too, Laurel,” he replied. He tilted his head back and looked down at her. “I’ve missed you, too. Very much.” He watched as the impact of his words registered in her expression. She looked surprised at first, then happy, and finally, her gaze was sweet and tender. She turned away, a slight smile on her lips, and he tucked her close again. She had always been so open and honest with her emotions. So trusting. He could never hurt her. He could never betray that trust. I have missed you, Laurel, he added silently. But until tonight, I didn’t know how much. Something in my life making me feel restless, driven, unsatisfied. Some elusive need, pushing me on. Wanting to achieve, to excel. To measure up in someone’s eyes. Not for my family. Not even for myself. For someone. Who? For you, Laurel. It was all for you. And of all the women I’ve met, one or two came close to feeling right, and yet, still fell short. That was it, of course, all those years. I’d been comparing them to you. And never even realized it. Connor felt the music wash over him, cherishing the feeling of Laurel in his arms. The singer’s soulful voice did full justice to the song’s romantic lyrics, describing the magical moment when love is first discovered, first realized. Suddenly Connor wanted to laugh out loud at his own foolishness, his own blindness. He felt lighthearted. Released of some crushing burden he wasn’t even aware he’d been carrying. But now he knew. And the entire world looked different to him, bright, fresh, new, as if washed clean by a summer storm. On impulse, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips. He saw her eyes flutter shut for a moment and heard her sigh. The sound, no louder than a breath, drove him wild. He imagined sweeping her up in his arms and carrying her down to the beach, making love to her all night long just to elicit more of those soft seductive sighs. He gently squeezed her hand and then felt something cold and sharp bite into his skin. He knew without looking. Her engagement ring. Of course. The classic, square-cut diamond—large enough to impress but one that could never be called ostentatious. Then, as if magically summoned by Connor’s thoughts, the fianc? appeared, emerging from the crowd to stand beside them on the dance floor. Connor recognized him instantly from the peeved expression on his smooth face. “Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” he asked Laurel. He brushed her hair off her shoulder in a gesture that seemed to Connor both blatantly intimate and somehow, mildly disapproving. “Todd.” Laurel’s voice sounded husky and slow, as if she had just been rudely awakened from a pleasant dream, Connor thought. Or was that simply his own feeling? Laurel stopped dancing and Connor had no choice but to release her. “This is my old friend, Connor Northrup,” Laurel said, starting the introductions. “You must have heard me talk about Connor. We go way back.” “Of course. Good old Connor. Boy hero, a friend to all. I remember,” Todd assured both of them. Connor knew that if Todd recalled anything about his relationship with Laurel it would most likely be that Connor was the son of the family servants, the caretaker—and sometimes chauffeur—and the housekeeper. From the cool, condescending way Todd looked him over and the curt nod of greeting, Connor felt certain that this was the case. “Connor, this is my fianc?, Todd Parson.” “Congratulations on your engagement,” Connor offered politely. “You’re a lucky man.” “Thanks, Connor.” Todd slipped his arm around Laurel’s waist and pulled her toward him. “Guess I chased her until she caught me,” he joked. Connor laughed politely along with Laurel, but he could see how Todd’s little joke had stung her. He didn’t like Todd Parson. He supposed that most women would find the guy good-looking, but Connor didn’t like the man’s small dark eyes, his slicked-back hair, his cocky attitude. His entire demeanor screamed of the right family name, the right schools and connections. But Connor felt, deep in the marrow of his very bones, that this arrogant young man, who came equipped with all the advantages of wealth and class, was not nearly good enough for Laurel. “Stan and Louise just arrived. They’ve been asking for you,” Todd mentioned privately to Laurel. “I really think you ought to say hello to them. Especially since Stan sent me that new client last week.” “Oh, yes. I guess I’d better,” Laurel agreed, scanning the crowd. Then she glanced up at Connor, her turquoise eyes shimmering with some private message for him alone. Clearly, she seemed sorry to leave him. But there was something more. What was it exactly? Connor wondered as he tried to understand. Telegraphing her reluctance to leave him? Her sense of being torn suddenly between her promise to Todd and the feelings ignited by their reunion? “I’ll see you later, Connor. We’ll catch up some more, okay?” Laurel said as Todd began to sweep her back into the crowd. “Sure thing,” Connor replied easily, though he felt anything but. Laurel nodded, then turned to respond to some request from Todd that Connor could not hear. Todd’s face looked a bit flushed, as if he’d had too much to drink or was simply irritated, annoyed at Laurel for some reason. Jealous maybe, Connor thought. Had he been in Todd’s place and found his fianc? in the arms of another man with that dreamy expression on her face, he would have felt the same. Connor watched as the couple disappeared into the laughing, milling crowd and then walked off in search of a drink. His head pounded and a bitter knot twisted in his gut. He was jealous of Todd Parson. Out of his head with jealousy. And what right did he have to feel this way? Absolutely no right at all. Except that he did. For the profound, amazing feelings for Laurel he’d so newly discovered seemed to grant him the right. Was he fooling himself? Or had he and Laurel discovered something rare and special here tonight? If so, did they even have time to figure it out before her wedding day? How ironic, Connor thought as he lifted a glass of champagne off a passing silver platter. He’d known Laurel most of his life. And now, when perhaps he was just coming to realize what she meant to him—what she could mean to him—it was too late. She was claimed by another man. Connor knew full well that he should respect Laurel’s commitment. In all his life, even as a boy, he’d lived by a strong moral and ethical code and found it hard to imagine himself violating those standards. He certainly didn’t think much of men who cheated on their romantic partners, or tried to break up a couple. Especially a couple who planned to be married. Yet, all these rules and standards didn’t seem to apply here. They didn’t seem relevant to him and Laurel, not now anyway. All the rules and ethical standards in the world couldn’t come close to overshadowing what he felt in his heart. He’d long known the quote, “All’s fair in love and war.” But until tonight, until the moment he pondered the ethical side of pursuing his newfound feelings for Laurel, he’d never understood it. For to Connor’s mind, when it came to questions of right and wrong, it suddenly didn’t seem right that Laurel could marry another man. Just as it didn’t seem right that the sun would rise in the west tomorrow and set in the east. Did he dare mention such a thing to her? Connor shook his dark head as he drained his drink to the bottom of the glass. They needed time. Time to get to know each other again. To test out these amazing, powerful feelings. He’d be asking her to risk everything on a whim, on an impulse. What if he was wrong? Slow down, pal, he coached himself. One step at a time. Laurel asked you to hang around so you could talk some more, so that’s what you should do. Connor took a deep breath and set down his empty glass. He gazed around the party and recognized a few faces, friends of Laurel’s parents who had often been guests at the estate. Of course, if they recognized him at all, they would remember him simply as the caretaker’s boy. Smart, good-looking, even well-spoken and polite…for a boy from the wrong side of town. How kind of Charles to have taken a liking to the kid. Taken him under his wing. How lucky for the boy to have such a powerful mentor. I understand Charles even helped him get a scholarship to Princeton, they’d whisper. I wonder if he appreciates all that Charles has done for him? they’d add. And it was all true. Charles Sutherland had helped him a great deal. And while his scholarship had not covered every cost of his education, Connor also believed that working to earn his way in part had also provided an education for him, as valuable as the one he’d received in his classes. Yes, he had a good deal to thank Charles Sutherland for, Connor reflected again. And how would he repay him? By stepping into his daughter’s orderly, well-planned life and creating havoc? By tempting her to be unfaithful to her fianc?, to break her promises and betray her commitments? Connor searched for Laurel in the crowd and found her. His throat grew tight. The right thing to do was just walk away, right now. Leave for New York tomorrow morning first thing. Couldn’t risk seeing her again. Couldn’t even risk saying goodbye. But he didn’t think he could do that. Didn’t want to do it. She’d be hurt, and he couldn’t do that for the world. Connor stood on the sidelines of the party, sipping another drink and watching the parade of glittering guests. It had been a long time since he’d witnessed such a gathering—perhaps since the last time he’d attended a formal affair at the Sutherlands’. He’d come a long way since those days. Still, he felt awkward and out of place. He scanned the crowd for a friendly face, hoping to spot his host, Charles Sutherland, whom he had not seen yet. The face he found was familiar yet had never been truly friendly. As Connor’s dark gaze locked with the gaze of Laurel’s older brother, Phillip, a myriad of emotions and memories flooded through him. Phillip stood in a circle talking, his arm around a beautiful, auburn-haired woman who gazed up at him with rapt attention. Phillip had been blessed with the same golden-color hair as his sister; thick with a slight wave, it was combed back for a formal look. His eyes were also blue, but a pale, icy shade that suited his cold, calculating nature. Unlike Laurel, his build was stocky and thick. Even as a boy, he’d always been a bit overweight. But as a man, he was able to hide his girth a bit better, especially tonight, under his well-cut attire. His fair coloring and bronzed complexion—acquired on golf courses, tennis courts and yachts, Connor had no doubt—was set off handsomely by his formal white dinner jacket. All in all, he looked every inch the polished, wealthy young bachelor, heir to the family business his father now ran. As Connor recollected, Charles had mentioned that Phillip had been working at Sutherland Enterprises since graduating college four years ago. Expecting to take the place over when his father retired, Connor had no doubt. Though everyone who knew both the father and son would know that Phillip would never be half the man Charles Sutherland was. Phillip nodded in greeting and Connor nodded back, feeling a bitter taste rise in the back of his throat. Then Phillip turned back to his circle and said something that made everyone laugh. Connor knew instantly that Phillip Sutherland had not changed. He had never met anyone he detested more. Spoiled, manipulative and self-centered, Phillip had done his best to cause trouble for Connor all through their childhood. Connor could have even tolerated the despicable schemes Phillip carried out to get Connor into trouble, if Phillip had been even the slightest bit kinder to Laurel. Phillip seemed to have no sense of a loving, protective instinct toward his younger sister. To the contrary, he was either blaming Laurel for his misdeeds or trying to trick her into covering up one of his messes. How many times had Connor, older and not nearly as trusting and naive as Laurel, stepped in, feeling the need to safeguard Laurel from her own brother’s machinations? Too many, Connor recollected. He and Phillip had found a lot to fight about. But Connor eventually drew the line at fistfights. Not that he had ever been afraid of Phillip. Phillip was older, and had been taller and heavier than Connor at the time, but he never got the best of him. It was always Phillip who ran off with a bloody lip or black eye, crying to his father or mother about the rude, crude servant’s son. No, Connor had never feared Phillip, but he had learned to fear his own father’s wrath, for nothing could make Owen Northrup angrier than hearing that Connor and Phillip had gotten in a scrape. Owen had disapproved of Connor’s friendship with Laurel and would have forbidden Connor to see her at all if he’d had his own way in the matter. Connor thought Owen permitted it only because Charles Sutherland liked Connor so much and seemed to think he was a good influence on his own children. Owen, however, had stubbornly held on to the belief that no good could come of Connor socializing with what Owen called “his betters.” He was also terrified that he and his wife would lose their relatively comfortable and well-paying jobs with the Sutherlands due to one of Connor’s fights with Phillip. To the best of Connor’s knowledge, Charles Sutherland had never viewed the boys’ scrapes as such a serious problem. In fact, Connor sometimes thought Charles hoped Phillip would glean some valuable lessons from his encounters with Connor. To avoid facing his father’s wrath and the possibility of not being allowed to see Laurel anymore, Connor had often backed off from Phillip’s goading challenges. Phillip would gloat, as if Connor lacked courage. For the sake of keeping peace with his father and protecting his relationship with Laurel, Connor had suffered in silence. Though they all knew Connor could whip Phillip with one hand tied behind his back any day of the week. At least, that’s what Laurel had always told him. Connor’s reverie was suddenly interrupted by a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Connor! So glad you could come, son.” Connor turned to face Charles’s warm and welcoming smile. “Enjoying yourself?” “Yes, of course. It’s quite a party,” Connor replied. “Well, I would have preferred something smaller, at our place in New York. That’s where they’ll be married. But it was very important to Laurel to come up here, to have a gathering at this house.” Charles gazed around, his voice taking a wistful, bittersweet tone, Connor noticed. “She misses her mother, you know. We all miss her.” “She was a wonderful woman,” Connor said. Charles nodded, murmured his thanks and sipped his drink. Connor could see that after all these years it was still very difficult for Charles to speak about his wife. He didn’t know what else he might say and felt it best to say nothing more. Coming here had brought back many memories of Laurel’s mother for him as well. At any moment he expected to see Madeleine Sutherland coming through the French doors from the ballroom, moving gracefully among her guests. Laughing, smiling, looking at her husband in that special way that told the world that Charles Sutherland was the center of her universe. She had been lovely and kind, a gracious woman who always had a special word for him and a way of making him feel welcome in her home. Laurel was turning out to be just like her. No mystery there. Madeleine Sutherland had been devoted to her children and particularly close to Laurel. It was sad that she had not lived to see her daughter’s wedding day. “This was Madeleine’s favorite place in the whole world, this house and the gardens and beach. She wanted us to retire here,” Charles confided. “I know that’s why Laurel wanted the party here tonight. To feel closer to her mother, as if Madeleine had a part in the wedding plans. I’ve hardly been back since she died.” He paused and took a long swallow of his drink. “I don’t know. Maybe it was a good thing, opening up the house like this, having this party here. Perhaps it will help us all to put the past to rest somehow,” he added, meeting Connor’s gaze. “Yes, a good thing,” Connor agreed sympathetically. He could not help but notice the glassy, unshed tears in Charles Sutherland’s eyes. He still missed his wife. Missed her with all his heart. That was love, Connor thought. Untouched by time or separation. Even the ultimate separation. Would he ever know that kind of love for a woman? You could feel that way about Laurel, another voice answered. Maybe you already do. “Well, enough of this glum and gloomy talk,” Charles replied with a forced, bright smile. He patted Connor jovially on the back. “It’s time we talked about your future, young man. Tell me more about this job you’re starting. Monday, is it?” “Yes, sir. Monday morning. Bright and early,” Connor replied, flattered that Charles remembered about his job when the man obviously had so many more pressing matters on his mind. “You’ll do fine. The organization is lucky to have you,” he assured Connor in a fatherly tone. “Oh, and before I forget, there are a few people here I’d like you to meet. Good connections for you down in the city. Now, Ralph Walters over there is an investment banker, a big wheel with Morgan Stanley…” Connor allowed Charles to lead him into the crowd and was introduced to a few of his host’s influential friends. Charles’s introductions were always glowing, recounting Connor’s achievements and bright prospects to a point that was a breath away from embarrassing. But Connor knew that Charles’s enthusiasm was always well meant. In fact, he could not help but feel as if the older man was proudly introducing his own son. Heaven knew, he’d never had an ounce of such encouragement from his own father. Owen Northrup had always denigrated Connor’s ambitions to attend college. More reaching beyond his station in life, was the way Owen saw it. Sure to lead to disappointment and humiliation. As Connor grew older he came to see that his father’s criticism, and even suspicion, of his academic achievements was really due to the fact that Owen felt threatened and surpassed by a son who would outgrow his family and make a life for himself far away from the Cape. After conversing with Charles’s Wall Street friends, Connor wandered around the party, waiting for the chance to speak with Laurel again. He caught a glimpse of her now and then, but it never seemed the right moment to approach her. Finally, the guests began to leave and the crowd thinned. The party was ending. Connor felt self-conscious and could linger no longer. He saw his chance to say goodbye privately to Laurel and swiftly approached her. He felt confused, overwhelmed, his mind whirling with so many possible things he might say to her. Would she meet him tomorrow if he asked? He approached her as she stood with her back turned. “Laurel, I just wanted to say good-night….” His voice trailed off as she spun to face him. Her beautiful face, her soft smile, the tender light in her eye as she met his gaze overwhelmed him. Connor felt himself blown away. All coherent thoughts about what to say next escaped him. “I’ve been looking for you. I thought you left without saying goodbye.” She took a step toward him and lightly touched his sleeve. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk more. There were so many people. I felt like a tennis ball, bouncing from one group to the next….” She shook her head and laughed. “I understand,” Connor cut in. From the way it had looked to him, it was more like Todd pulling her around from group to group, like so much baggage. More than once, it had seemed to Connor that Laurel wanted a break from socializing, but Todd had forced her to press on. He didn’t care if the man was her fianc?, Connor didn’t like the way Todd Parson treated Laurel. She deserved so much better. On impulse, he reached out and took her hand. She seemed surprised but pleased, and he felt the slight, answering pressure of her fingers responding to his. “I was wondering if you had any free time tomorrow. Maybe we could get together, have some coffee in town…maybe at that place with the fishnets on the ceiling? Do they still make their own doughnuts?” “Sorry, that place went upscale. You can probably get a cappuccino and croissants, but they don’t serve a good old, down-to-earth doughnut anymore,” she reported wistfully. “I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t we go down to the beach near the landing? You know, where the sailboat ran into the rocks,” Connor continued. There were so many special places he wanted to visit again with Laurel. “Please, don’t remind me,” she laughed, and covered her mouth with her hand. “I was at the helm, remember. You were so sweet not to get angry with me about wrecking your boat,” she teased him. “And so brave getting us back to shore.” “It was fun being shipwrecked with you.” His reply was teasing and light. But his voice husky and rough. As his dark gaze met hers and their bodies leaned a slight, but significant degree, closer, the moment suddenly changed to something far more intense, charged with the energy of their powerful attraction. “I would love to see you tomorrow,” Laurel said finally in a velvety, hushed voice. Her words and the way she gently squeezed his hand made his soul sing. But just as she agreed to grant his heart’s desire, Phillip appeared out of nowhere. “Better call it a night, Laurel. Don’t you remember, you and Todd promised to come sailing tomorrow with me and Liza and her folks. Liza will be around to pick us up at seven, sharp. You won’t be able to get up in time if you don’t get some sleep,” he whined. “Oh, that’s right.” Laurel shook her head regretfully. “I do have plans, I guess. Maybe we won’t be back that late though,” she added hopefully. Before Connor could reply, Phillip cut in again. “I wouldn’t bet on it. Liza’s father plans on sailing to some friends’ house on the Vineyard.” Sounded as if they wouldn’t get home until late tomorrow night. Especially if Phillip had anything to say about it. He was hovering over Laurel right now like a guard dog. Todd Parson’s guard dog, Connor surmised. Those two probably got along well, cut from the same cloth. “Well, some other time then,” Connor said. He stared down at Laurel, his gaze conveying so much more than his polite words. “Yes, some other time,” she agreed, the regretful note in her voice cutting at his heart. “I’ll be in the city soon. Maybe we can have lunch.” “Sure thing.” Connor nodded. He swallowed back his disappointment. “Your father knows how to get in touch with me.” It was the polite thing to say, he knew. But it would never happen. Even if it did, by the time their next meeting came about, Laurel would most likely be Mrs. Todd Parson—and beyond his reach. Connor knew it would hurt too much to see her again after she married. “Well, looks like it’s hello and goodbye,” Phillip said to Connor. “Bet it brought back memories for you, coming here.” “It did,” Connor replied evenly. Though not all of them pleasant, he did not add. “Good night, Phillip,” he said. Then turning to Laurel, he gazed into her eyes and smiled. “Thanks for our dance,” he said in a voice for her alone. She smiled at him, but before she could reply, he leaned down and quickly, lightly kissed her cheek. “Good luck, Laurel. I’m sorry I didn’t come home to visit sooner,” he added. “I would have given Parson a run for his money.” “Good night, Connor….” He felt Laurel’s fleeting touch and heard her voice trail off as he continued to move away from her. He strode across the patio with determined steps, weaving his way around the hired help who were now busily cleaning up the party debris. Finally, he was away from the bright lights, on a path through the garden that led to the front grounds, where he had parked his car. The darkness and sudden quiet offered some comfort. He felt numb and empty. He felt as if his heart was breaking. How could he leave her? How could he just go without letting her know how he felt? This was his last chance. His only chance. Still, he did not see that there was anything more he could do. Maybe it was all for the best, Connor thought as he saw the lights at the end of the path. She didn’t feel the same. The thought stung painfully, and yet, it had to be true. If she did feel the same—if she felt even half of what he felt for her right now—she would have given him some sign. She would have figured out some way to see him again. Even if she had to sail to the Vineyard tomorrow. Even if she had to sail to China. Was he fooling himself? Did he merely want what he couldn’t have? He didn’t think so. He wasn’t that way about women usually. He wouldn’t be that way about Laurel. Laurel. Just as he’d come to realize what she meant to him, she was snatched out of reach. God, it hurt so much. How long would he feel like this? Months, probably. Years, maybe. Forever? Connor found his car, one of the few left at the end of the long curving driveway. Even the valets, hired for the night, had gone home by now. His vision blurred, he fumbled in his pocket for the keys, then dropped his key ring on the gravel. Damn, he wasn’t actually crying, was he? He hadn’t cried since…he couldn’t remember when. He brushed his hand across the back of his damp eyes and took a deep, calming breath. He had to get away from here. He had to get off the Cape tomorrow, as early as possible. Maybe he’d pack up the car when he got home, rest a few hours and leave at dawn. Before Laurel even met up with her sailing party. Deep in thought, Connor did not hear the light footsteps running down the driveway toward him. He didn’t notice a sound until Laurel stood just steps away. “Connor…wait,” she called to him in a breathless, urgent whisper. He turned and saw her, running toward him. He moved to meet her and instinctively opened his arms, his hands coming to rest on her slim waist. She stepped into his embrace, placing her hands on his broad chest and, for a moment, as she caught her breath, leaned her head down so that it fit just under his chin. He felt his lips and cheek brush against her silky hair before she lifted her head again. Thankfully, she did not move away. “Laurel, what it is? What’s the matter?” “Thank goodness I caught you.” She was winded from running, and holding her so close, he suddenly felt breathless, too. “I couldn’t let you just go like that, Connor. It felt so…final,” she tried to explain. “Too final,” she added. He nodded. He knew exactly what she meant. There was no need to explain. “I think we should talk. How about down at the beach?” “But I’m busy tomorrow. That stupid sailing date with Phillip’s future in-laws,” she reminded him. “Not tomorrow, tonight.” His hands moved up to grip her smooth shoulders. “Right now,” he said urgently. As she gazed at him, he could read the flux and flow of indecision in her beautiful face—anticipation, desire, hesitation and guilt all flashed before his eyes. Her wide azure eyes studied him. Could she see that he’d been crying? God, he hoped not. Finally, she nodded. “Wait for me by the dock. I’ll be there in a little while.” He said nothing, just stared down at her as inexpressible feelings washed over him—relief, gratitude and then, a sweet rising wave of anticipation. She tenderly cupped his cheek with the palm of her hand. Then an instant later, she turned and ran back up the driveway toward the dark shadow of the Sutherland mansion. Connor made his way to the beach on a sandy path overgrown with bramble and vines. If he hadn’t known the path existed, he would have never found it. It was slow going. Luckily, a full moon had risen high in the clear night sky and the moonlight illuminated his steps. Finally, he came out at the Sutherlands’ stretch of private beach. He slipped off his jacket and shoes and rolled up the cuffs of his trousers. He spotted a long driftwood log and sat on it, staring out at the sea, as good a place as any to wait. The waves moved toward the shore in a smooth, regular rhythm, the blue-black water rippling in the distance like a skein of satin. He’d often come down here after dark with Laurel when they were young. They’d build a fire and tell spooky stories. More often than not, Charles Sutherland would come looking for Laurel and sit with them, telling stories of his own. He had some good ones. And just as they’d never given a thought to the future back then, right now, Connor could think of nothing but the past. A simpler time. A time when the golden summer days seemed to stretch on endlessly, without beginning or end, and every day was a new adventure. And along with the images of the cloudless blue skies and long sunny days, always came the image of Laurel. Laurel, laughing, joking, confiding her secrets, her troubles, her dreams. Her tanned, slender arms and legs gracefully swinging as she strolled beside him on the smooth wet sand, her golden hair waving behind her like a flag, her turquoise-blue eyes sparkling, the way the sun danced on the waves. Her wide, warm smile so accepting, so understanding. So loving. She still had that smile. She was still the same, exactly, as she’d been—yet, now, so much more. He swallowed hard, and looked up at the house. The yellow squares of light in each window had all gone black. The caterer and cleanup crew were gone for the night. Everyone in the mansion had gone to bed. Laurel would be here soon. He could barely wait to feel her in his arms. To hold her and kiss her. To press his face into her soft hair and tell her how beautiful she was. How he’d never let her go now that he’d found her again. He stood up, rubbing his hands together, searching the ragged line of trees and brush for some sign of her. He checked his watch. Barely ten minutes had passed. It felt like ten hours. He stared out at the water again, his hands on his hips. The sound and motion of the surf was a soothing distraction, calming him a bit. Finally, he heard her soft footsteps on the sand behind him. He spun around just as she stood about an arm’s length away. Still dressed in her glamorous gown, she’d removed all her jewelry—including her engagement ring, he noticed—and her shoes. She’d also removed the dressy clip that had held back the side of her hair, and her wavy golden mane was now blown back from her face by the breeze off the ocean. He didn’t say a word. Couldn’t speak. He stepped toward her and cupped her bare shoulders in his hands. He pressed his cheek against her hair, breathing in the rich, flowery scent of her hair and skin. Laurel moved smoothly into his embrace, her arms looping around his waist, her soft, full breasts pressed to his chest. She stirred against him, murmured his name, and his arms moved down to encircle her, gripping her tightly to him. For a moment, Connor felt as if he might explode. Then his hands went up to her hair and he lifted her face to his. Her eyes were huge, liquid blue, dark as the sea and churning with longing, a hunger to love and be loved. He felt her run her hands along the hard planes of his back as if to confirm the message that her eyes had already so eloquently expressed. They had talking to do. They had important things to discuss, to decide. He needed to keep his head, act responsibly. Honorably. He didn’t want Laurel to have regrets. Recriminations. He couldn’t stand it if she ended up feeling that way. He gazed down at her. About to say something. Anything. And yet, no words came. Finally, his head dipped to the irresistible lure of her moist, red lips. Their mouths met and merged, his kiss questioning at first. Then, as he felt her eager response, the kiss quickly deepened to a passionate expression of all Connor felt for her. And all Laurel felt for him. Her hands glided over his muscular chest and shoulders, then around to his back again, boldly caressing him. Connor answered in kind, sweeping his hands down the curves of her lithe form, from her shoulders to her hips, then back up again, to gently cup her breasts, circling the hardened tips with the pads of his thumbs. Laurel’s kiss felt wild against his mouth for a moment before she softly moaned with pleasure, her body sagging helplessly against him. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered in a husky voice. “You take my breath away.” Moments later, they dropped onto the sand. As their kisses grew wilder and even more intense, Connor cushioned Laurel’s head with one strong arm, the other stroking her from hip to thigh. His mouth moved from her lips, down the column of her throat and across the silky skin exposed by the low neckline of her gown. With his fingertip and tongue he teased and tasted the sensitive flesh at the top of her cleavage and soon had loosened the zipper at the back enough to pull the fabric down, exposing her breasts to his passionate touch. He felt Laurel’s fingers moving through his thick hair as his mouth covered one rosy, sensitive nipple. She moaned and stirred under him, pressing her hips provocatively against his. He was sure that she must have felt his readiness for her, his throbbing need to make them one. He took a deep, ragged breath and lifted his head to look down at her. Her eyes were half-closed, dazed with passion, her gorgeous face flushed, her glorious hair splayed out around her head like a cloud of spun gold. “Laurel. Darling,” he whispered. He kissed her lightly and then swallowed hard. “If you want me to stop, now’s the time to say it.” She framed his face with her cool, soft hands and looked deeply into his eyes. “I want you, Connor. I want to make love with you. Please.” His pulse beat madly out of control as her words penetrated his fevered brain. Her thrilling caresses had set a fire burning inside him that burst out of control. He struggled to repress an instinctive impulse to plunge himself into her body at his next breath. As he held still above her, trying to slow himself down, her fingers nimbly opened his shirt buttons and he felt her warm mouth moving over his chest, kissing him, tasting him, her warm, wet tongue swirling around his sensitive nipple. He felt his body shudder and he moved to rest on his side in the sand, as Laurel’s caresses moved lower, her mouth tenderly exploring his flat abdomen, her hands caressing his chest and then his thighs. He felt her unfasten his belt and the top of his pants, then felt her hand slip inside his pants to cup and caress his male hardness, stroking him until he thought he’d cry out with the unbearably intense pleasure of her touch. When Connor knew he could stand no more of her seductive caresses, he raised himself above her again, his hand sliding up under her gown, up her smooth, strong leg. His fingertips found the lacy edge of her panties and his fingers slipped inside, seeking and finding her slick velvety warmth. He could feel that she was more than ready for him. But he wanted to make this perfect for her, he wanted to thrill her in a way no other man ever had before. His fingers expertly stroking the peak of her pulsing womanhood, Connor was alert to the slightest shift of her body, the slightest change in her breathing, eager to please her, to touch her exactly as she wanted. His mouth moved again to her breast, sucking and soothing her nipples. Laurel fell back against the sand, sighing and writhing with pleasure as his masterful loving pushed her higher and higher. She gripped his powerful shoulders, her hips thrusting up to meet the lovingly slow strokes of his hand. He felt her shiver and press her face into the hollow between his neck and shoulder. She took a deep, shuddering breath and pressed herself close to him. “Connor, please. Come to me,” she said. “I can’t wait anymore.” With her hands on his hips, she gently urged his body to cover her own. “Neither can I, sweetheart,” he whispered. With his mouth pressed to her own, Connor hastily pushed her gown up over her hips and settled between her thighs. Moments later, he made their bodies one. He heard Laurel’s sharply indrawn breath and felt her body tense, then tremble in his arms. He held very still, kissing her hair until he felt her relax again beneath him. When he began to move slowly inside her, he heard her moan deep and low at the back of her throat, but it was a sound of pure pleasure and it thrilled him, inspiring him to move even deeper, to give her even more. Their bodies moved as one in an ageless rhythm, an echo of the steady pounding of the waves against the shoreline. Connor thrust faster and deeper, every sigh and movement of Laurel’s hips rising to meet his own, driving him wild with passion for her. She was indescribably beautiful, unique and precious, the rarest treasure he’d ever know. As he brought her to a climax of pleasure and felt himself reaching his own, some dim, distant part of his mind felt as if this moment of complete possession had not served to satisfy one single drop of his hunger for her. To the contrary, to love her, to hold and have her this way had opened a door in his heart, or even his soul, that had been long left locked and sealed. But now it stood open, leading to a road of limitless longing for her—a need for her that would never be satisfied, never sated. Just as he heard Laurel’s cries of ecstasy as she reached her peak, he felt himself topple over the edge. He shuddered in her arms and felt her tremble beneath him. Their mouths merged in a deep, devouring kiss as Connor moved within her with one last powerful thrust. He felt her shiver and grip him close, hearing her call his name as her body clenched around him, and they cleaved together in the ultimate of intimacy, as close as two beings could ever be. Some time later, Connor and Laurel sat together in a close embrace, leaning back on the driftwood log. He had covered her with his suit jacket and then wrapped her possessively in his arms. Her head rested on his chest, tucked below his chin, her arms loped around his waist as he stroked her hair. He stared up at the stars, still too moved to speak. Finally he said, “Tell me you won’t marry Todd Parson. I don’t think I could stand it if you did.” “No, I can’t marry him,” Laurel agreed softly. She looked up at him and touched her hand to his cheek. “Right now, I can’t even remember why I wanted to.” Two Seven years later Laurel glanced at the small gold clock on her desk. Nine thirty-three. Barely two minutes had passed since she’d last checked, though somehow, it felt like two hours. Connor Northrup was due to arrive at ten o’clock. She would not go down to the meeting room until then. She felt the flurry of butterflies churning her stomach and tried to ignore it. She turned her attention to her desktop, piled with papers, and tried to focus on the task at hand, trying to determine if Sutherland Enterprises should sue a supplier who had failed to keep to the terms of their contract. Laurel flipped open a folder of correspondence and tried to concentrate on the stack of letters. Some were quite old, dated up to five years ago and signed with her former married name, Laurel Parson. She didn’t like to be reminded of her marriage. She felt a wave of sadness, futile sadness, actually. When her friends and family had heard the story of Todd’s infidelity, they had naturally rushed to support her, to make Todd out to be the villain of the piece. But Laurel knew better. It took two to make a mess of a marriage and she had played her part. The truth was, she should have never married Todd in the first place. The truth was, she had been unfaithful to him even before they’d spoken their vows. One clear-cut act of betrayal with her body, on a moonlit beach—and after that, years of betrayal in her heart, believing herself to be irrevocably in love with a man who had simply used her to fulfill some long-simmering fantasy. A man who had promised her the world, and asked—no, demanded—that she turn her entire world upside down for him with a snap of his fingers. Then…nothing. Not a word. Not a card. Not a single phone call. So, she had gone through with her marriage, come back to reality, she thought. Fulfilled her promises, her responsibility, though she knew all along her heart wasn’t in it. And, unfortunately, neither was the rest of her body, she reflected. For although she had given herself to Connor with bold abandon, she’d never responded to Todd with anything close to that degree of passion and sensuality. Todd had accused her of being cold. Frigid. That was the reason he’d needed to wander. It was really all her fault, according to Todd. She’d accepted the accusation without argument, for how could she dare explain why she knew it wasn’t true? Besides, she did feel guilty about her lack of passion for him. About the light of love that had burned in her heart for another man, for so many years, unseen and unrequited. Yes, discovering Todd’s affair had been painful and humiliating. But the pain had been nothing compared with the sense of loss and betrayal she’d felt, the humiliation of being played for a fool, when Connor Northrup had used her for a one-night stand. What other explanation was there for what had happened? If Connor Northrup had the nerve to offer one, she knew she’d refuse to believe it. She had almost expected to see him at her father’s funeral two years ago. But Connor had been traveling on business at the time and had sent a note of sympathy along with a staggering arrangement of flowers. Her father had adored Connor. Taken a deep interest in him as a boy and helped him fulfill his potential as a young man. After Connor entered the work world, Charles had kept in touch with him, bragged about his successes as if Connor had been his own son. Sometimes she thought he liked him even more than Phillip. Why should it matter so much after all this time? Laurel shook her head, silently scolding herself. She should know better by now. She should at least act as if she did. And, in about ten minutes, she would do exactly that. She would act as if it didn’t matter and had never mattered to her, in fact. She would put on such a convincing show of cool, polite, businesslike persona that even Connor Northrup would not dare to bring up the past. She dreaded this meeting. She had dreaded this day ever since Laurel had learned that the firm that handled Sutherland’s annual audit had merged with a group of financial analysts headed by Connor Northrup. But now it had come—the day that they would meet again, face-to-face. She remembered how handsome he was. Remembered much too well, in fact. She knew it was mean of her, but she hoped he’d lost his hair, or gotten a big potbelly. Or both. It had been seven years since she’d seen him. Anything could have happened. He might be married, with ten kids, for all she knew. She found herself frowning at the thought, then shook her head. Laurel gave up on trying to review the old letters and pushed the pile of papers back into the folder. She rose from the desk and walked into the private bathroom that adjoined her office. She rinsed her hands, then quickly checked her appearance. Just as I would do before any other meeting of this kind, Laurel assured herself. She was not making any special effort for Connor Northrup. Still, she could not help wondering if he would find her appearance changed. She knew she had changed since that summer night years ago. People remarked on it. Or held themselves back from remarking on it, she had noticed. Her body was basically the same—if anything she’d gotten a bit thinner. The expensive, high-style navy blue suit she had chosen for today with its sleek, severe cut certainly made her look model thin. The color complemented her fair hair. Her hair was still long, though she rarely wore it down anymore, and certainly not at the office. Today it was swept up in a sophisticated style. Her pearl earrings added to the elegant, businesslike image. Her eyes—which Connor had once rhapsodized over—were still blue, she noted with a wry smile. But she was older and wiser and it showed, she knew. The sparkle was gone, replaced by a certain accepting dullness. Maturity, some might call it. But at that moment, Laurel wondered if it couldn’t more accurately be called cynicism. Bitterness. The shadow of vain hopes. Silly thoughts. Useless thoughts, really. She couldn’t let Connor guess that she had any feelings about seeing him at all. After all, she did have her self-respect. She’d never worn much makeup. Never needed to, and now, even when a bit of blush or concealer for the shadows under her eyes might have helped, she didn’t want to bother. She applied fresh lipstick in a brisk, efficient motion and snapped the tube closed. She was as ready as she’d ever be. She checked her watch. Five to ten. Time to head down to the conference room near Phillip’s office. Laurel grabbed her leather-bound notepad and a pen off her desk. When she left her office, she gave instructions to her assistant, Emily, then headed down the long hallway. The dark green carpeting was thick and her steps were nearly soundless. It was almost a relief to get it over with, Laurel reflected. She hoped that Connor would keep the discussion brief and focused on business matters. Business matters he clearly thought were urgent, but didn’t see fit to illuminate or explain when he’d called Phillip last night to arrange this meeting. Something having to do with the company’s annual outside audit, she assumed. The audit that was reported each year to Sutherland Enterprises’s board of directors. She knew it was presently taking place, but hadn’t heard of any significant problem or questions. Phillip hadn’t mentioned any. At least she wouldn’t be alone with him. Phillip would be there. Recalling how Connor and her brother got along about as well as oil and water, she wondered if Phillip’s presence would be any help. He would, at the very least, deflect some of Connor’s attention. After her father’s death, Phillip had been named CEO and taken over the helm. Even Laurel had to admit that he had not been doing a stellar job in the post, despite the fact that he had been groomed for years for the role, Laurel reflected as she boarded the elevator and punched the button for the ninth floor. Phillip was not a good manager and was often quite impulsive, without enough patience to learn about all the facts and consider them carefully before making important decisions. Phillip was shrewd, Laurel thought, but not truly intelligent. Certainly not wise about people, as her father had been, which to Laurel was the essence of running any business, really. It was all a soft soap, diplomatic way of saying that Phillip was not up to the job. And the financial health of the company would eventually suffer. Had already suffered, she feared. But it was a demanding position. She truly hoped that it was merely a matter of time before her brother grew into his role. Laurel got off the elevator and walked down to the conference room near her brother’s large corner office. When she opened the door, she was surprised to find that Phillip was already there, waiting. Like some reigning monarch, it was usually his habit to make everyone assemble for a meeting and have them sit waiting for him before he swept in and took his seat at the head of the table. But there he was, waiting for Connor Northrup. Like a boy who had misbehaved, waiting for the principal, was Laurel’s immediate impression. But that was silly. Why should Phillip feel nervous about meeting with Connor? She was the one who had reason to feel nervous. If anything, Phillip should feel he had the upper hand in such a meeting. “Laurel, there you are. I was just about to call your office,” Phillip said as she walked in. “Come in. Come in,” he urged her. “Don’t forget to shut the door.” Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». 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