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Tangled Web
Cathy Gillen Thacker


Past transgressions haunted Hope Barrister, whose beauty helped her rise from a tenant farm to a Texas fortune. But her quiet loveliness concealed dark secrets she'd long kept safe, to protect her young son….Chase Barrister found Hope enigmatic and elegant–but she tasted of forbidden fruit. Years ago, Chase had fled his father's legacy, but he'd taken memories of his stepmother and his own bittersweet desire.After his father's death, Chase returned to Texas and Hope. Would he be caught in the web of familial deceit…or untangle an honest love and truly come home?









“Are you going to deny the passion you felt for my father?”


“You have no right…” Hope whispered.

“Oh, really?” Chase knew, feeling as he did about her, that he had every right. “Just what constitutes passion in your view, Hope? A touch? A kiss?” He slanted his lips over hers, all the need he held back surging to the surface. “Is this passion enough for you, Hope?” His mouth brushed hers. “What about this?” Pulling her closer, Chase trailed his lips over her jaw, tasting the flavor of her skin. “Or this?”

Hope’s legs buckled as her body went fluid. Needing something to hold on to, she reached out to Chase, seduced by the promise of his arms. “I want you,” she whispered.

Suddenly Chase closed his eyes. He’d never meant to go this far. He whispered, in a low, tortured voice, racked with guilt, “But we can’t—”


Dear Reader,

I grew up the second child, and the oldest daughter, of five children. I was lucky enough to have a close, loving family, and today they—along with my husband and three children—remain a source of love and strength for me. I don’t know what I’d ever do without them.

But what about the people who are not as lucky as I? What is it like to grow up without a family who loves you and supports you every step of the way?

And yet, people do emerge from such childhoods to become caring adults. Often it is due to the love of those around them. A teacher or a friend. It doesn’t matter who it is, as long as someone loves you enough to take you into his heart and under his wing somewhere along the way.

Families are formed where no biological ties exist, and yet these families are every bit as strong as the real thing.

Hope Barrister is one of those people who didn’t have the love she should have had as a child. But she found it in her decades-older husband…. And though the love that sustained their marriage was not the romantic sort, it was strong and enduring, and a real lifeline for Hope and the baby she bore.

Chase Barrister, on the other hand, grew up loved and adored by both his parents. He doesn’t understand—or trust—Hope, his father’s young widow. But he is determined to do right by his stepbrother, and at last find out why and how his father came to marry Hope. And in understanding, he learns much about Hope and himself. And finds his own true love, as well.

I hope you enjoy this book—it’s one of my all-time favorites.

Happy reading!









Tangled Web

Cathy Gillen Thacker





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




CATHY GILLEN THACKER


married her high school sweetheart and hasn’t had a dull moment since. Why, you ask? Well, there were three kids, various pets, any number of automobiles, several moves across the country, his and her careers and sundry other experiences she wouldn’t trade for the world (some of which were exciting and some of which weren’t). But mostly, there was love and friendship and laughter.




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue




Chapter One


“Chase, can you hear me?” Rosemary Barrister shouted.

“Barely,” Chase shouted back, holding the field telephone up to his face. A caterpillar dropped from a nearby tree and crawled up his arm. He swatted at it irritably, then wiped at the sweat dripping down the back of his neck. He hated having his work interrupted, and knowing his mother, despite the trouble she’d had to go through to track him down, this was something trivial.

“What’s up?” he asked, trying his best to keep the terseness out of his tone.

“That trollop is ruining your father’s store, that’s what!” His mother shouted back hysterically, the static on the long-distance line covering none of her intense dislike for his father’s second wife. “I want you to come back to the States immediately!”

Chase emitted a heavy sigh and swore silently. Rosemary’s timing was the pits, as always. He was right in the middle of important medical research and getting out of the Costa Rican rain forest was no easy trick. And if this call went as usual, he’d make no headway with her at all. “Mom, I can’t do that right now—”

“Fine!” Rosemary countered, her faint voice rising stridently.

“But don’t come crying to me when Barrister’s goes bankrupt next month and we both lose our sole source of support.”

“Mom, it can’t be that bad—” Chase said in the most soothing tone he could manage. Mesmerized by the sheer beauty of it, he watched a sunbird fly from branch to branch in the canopy of trees above him where raindrops glinted like shiny pearls at the ends of pointed leaves. Damn, but he loved it here, where there were no phones, no family hassles, nothing but the work he loved….

“The hell it can’t! Barrister’s lost money last month, Chase, and the month before that! Haven’t you been reading your statements?”

Chase tore his eyes from the hanging orchids above him and concentrated on what his mother was saying. “Well, no.” He had no interest in the family department store; she knew that.

“The rent on my villa is due, Chase. I’ll be evicted if I don’t come up with some cash soon.”

Now that was a problem. “Where are you?” Chase asked, frowning. The way Rosemary flitted around, there was no telling.

“Monte Carlo. Chase, are you coming home or not?”

Chase groped for the canteen fastened to his waist, put it to his lips and drank deeply of the cool water. He didn’t want to go home. He never was in Houston for more than a day or so if he could help it, and usually he could. But this time it looked as if he had no choice. If he didn’t get things straightened out at the store, then he’d have no income and his mother would have no income. Which meant Rosemary would be on his back constantly, and he’d have to stop his research.

“Yes, I’ll go home.” He heaved a reluctant sigh, promising silently that he would only stay as long as it took to get the trouble settled.



THERE’S NO REASON this should be so hard, Chase told himself several days later as he parked his Jeep in front of the River Oaks mansion where he’d grown up. But it was hard, now that his father was gone. He hadn’t been back to Houston since the funeral over a year ago, and even then he’d avoided coming to the house, staying in town only long enough to attend the memorial service and say a last private goodbye to a man he’d never really known.

It shouldn’t have ended that way, with the two of them being more or less estranged, but there’d been no choice. They couldn’t lie to each other, and even if they had, they still would’ve both known the truth, that Chase felt disloyal being anywhere near the woman who had broken up his parents’ twenty-six-year marriage. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad had Hope not been so damn young—nineteen when she first married his father, and twenty when her son, Joey, was born. Or if she hadn’t been such a striking, sensual beauty, with her wide blue eyes, generous mouth and full lips, silky dark hair and fair skin.

She was so damn gorgeous and ripe-looking she could have married anyone she wanted. So much so that from the very beginning Chase had been unable to help but be aware of her, and he still felt guilty as hell about that. Now that she was single again she would be open to involvement and sending out signals, unconscious or otherwise, to that effect. He wondered how he would respond. It wouldn’t be easy seeing her look at another man or even him as a potential suitor. There was no way he would ever have wanted to desire his father’s young wife, but he had. Not that she had tried to make him notice her. If anything, Hope downplayed her physicality, retaining that mysterious air of innocence she had in her most unguarded moments.

Chase shook his head in confusion. He still wondered how his father could have robbed the cradle that way. If it had been him—hell, he would’ve felt like a lecherous old man going after someone half his age, especially someone as sensual and hauntingly beautiful as Hope. Whether she realized it or not, she needed a real partner in her life, someone who could take her to the limits of her physicality and back, not a father-figure who’d treat her like a china doll on a shelf, one who was pretty to look at but too fragile to touch. But apparently the difference in their ages hadn’t bothered Edmond or Hope because they’d seemed happy enough together, even a decade after their marriage. Never passionate exactly in the healthy, unconsciously sexy way he would have expected Hope to be, but happy in a gentle, familial way.

Well, none of that mattered now, Chase thought wearily, pushing from his Jeep. He was here because the family-owned department store was in trouble. And like it or not, he would have to stay until matters were resolved. He owed his father at least that much.



“MOM, you’ll never guess what happened today! The neatest thing!” Joey said, the moment Hope picked him up from school.

“I got asked to go hiking and camping with a bunch of guys from school. In New Mexico, even! Isn’t that neat?”

No, Hope thought, troubled, for more reasons than she could count. Deciding not to jump to conclusions, she put her white Mercedes SL coupe into drive and eased carefully back into the congested late-afternoon traffic. “When is this trip?” she asked, working hard to keep her tone conversational and light.

“Spring break.”

Frowning, Hope braked as they approached a crosswalk.

“Honey, that’s mid-March. It’s still cold in the mountains.”

“I know, but we’re gonna go to a low elevation, where there’s no snow. I can go,” Joey pleaded passionately. “Can’t I? Mom?”

As much as she wanted to say yes, she knew she couldn’t. Working hard to keep the worry from her voice, Hope pointed out what he already knew. “Joey, your asthma would be aggravated.” Worse, he would probably get sick, and he’d been sick so much already this past winter. He’d lost weight he couldn’t afford to lose and sometimes missed school more than he was there.

“I’ll take my medicine or get a shot or whatever the doctor says I need to do,” Joey promised earnestly. “And I won’t complain, either.”

Hope wished that was all it would take to make her son be able to lead a normal life, but she knew it wasn’t so. “Honey, that won’t work,” she reminded him with gentle reluctance. “I’m sorry. But the answer has to be no. Maybe we could work out something else you could do instead.”

Realizing by the firm yet pleasant tone of her voice there was no arguing with her, Joey hung his head. He was silent and visibly depressed the rest of the trip home. Guilt assailed her. “Do you have a lot of homework?” Hope asked as she turned the car onto their street.

“The usual,” Joey muttered.

Which meant a lot, Hope thought. She couldn’t believe how much homework they were giving these days.

“Dude. Whose Jeep it that?” Joey said. He pointed to the dull blue Jeep parked in the circular driveway in front of their home. Dented and splattered with red-brown mud, the vehicle looked incongruous next to the elegant white brick early Georgian mansion with the dark green shutters.

As always, Hope felt a sense of pride and accomplishment when she looked at her home. Three stories high, it was surrounded by beautifully landscaped flowers, evergreen shrubs, and towering live oak trees with Spanish moss. At either end of the three-story structure, was an octagonal-shaped wing with floor-to-ceiling casement windows on all sides. Four columns supported the two-story-high front porch. And there were shady terraces, rimmed with waist-high white balustrade, leading off the second floor of both octagonal wings.

She might have grown up poor, but there was no trace here of her impoverished, difficult beginnings or the heartbreak she had suffered years ago.

Realizing her son was still waiting for an answer, Hope said, “I don’t know whose Jeep that is.” Service people were required to park in the back, as did her help. Nor was there any identifying insignia on the Jeep. Still puzzling over who it might be, she added in a bemused voice, “I’m not expecting company.” Indeed, after a long day at the store, that was the last thing she needed or wanted. She spent most evenings with Joey, helping him with his homework, watching television or playing board games. And that was the way she liked her evenings; quiet, with a solid sense of family.

Nevertheless, she touched a hand to her dark upswept hair, making sure the thick waves were still securely pinned into the loose French twist she favored for work. A cautious glance in her rearview mirror revealed her makeup to still be intact, except for a smudge of mascara beneath one lash, which she promptly took care of with one quick brush of her little finger. Her blue eyes showed no sign of the normal end-of-day fatigue she felt inside. Satisfied that she was outwardly prepared to greet a visitor with the Texas charm and graciousness expected of all the Barristers, she gathered her things from inside the car.

As she did so, she saw him, sitting on one of the cushioned wicker sofas that sat on either end of the front porch. Chase Barrister. Her husband’s son. He was her stepson, though she had never been able to think of him as such. Just four years older than she, he was sexy and rugged and possessed the blatant sexuality and intense interest in all things physical his father had always lacked. Making love with Chase, she sensed, would be like being caught up in the center of a hurricane. There’d be calm, but it would be deceptive. One step too far in any direction and a woman would be in for the ride of her life—only to get drawn back into the tranquil center, then seduced to the dangerous edge again. With Chase, she sensed, there would never be an end. He’d enjoy a love affair to the hilt, with the same limitless verve he did everything else, and he’d make sure his woman enjoyed it, too.

It was her woman’s intuition about him, that had always kept her as far away from him as possible. Had she met Chase before she’d married her husband, she doubted she would have married Edmond. It would have been too hard. Chase was too attractive in an intensely primal way. Never mind trying to think of Chase as her stepson, for she knew no matter what she could never think of him as that. And Chase, for all his icy distrust of her, knew it, too.

Fortunately, in the ten years she had been married to Edmond, Chase had astutely kept his distance, using the demands of his work as excuse, and had remained as much a self-contained enigma to her now as the day they had first met. She blessed him for that. If he had been around constantly and tried to get close to her, she didn’t know what would have happened. And that fear of involvement with him had weighed on her heart and soul for years. She owed Edmond a lot. She had loved and respected him. As long as she’d been his wife, she’d done nothing to dishonor him, except one thing. She had desired his son, Chase, in a way she had never been able to desire his father. And for that she felt deeply guilty.

Chase stood and viewed her with the usual remote disregard as she and Joey got out of the Mercedes. She knew Chase thought she had married his father for his money, and although she knew it wasn’t true—she had married Edmond for his heart—it still hurt.

But she wouldn’t dwell on that, or let Chase put her on edge. At lease she’d try not to, she promised herself silently, as she took in everything about him. In soft denim jeans and a rumpled khaki shirt, he looked as ruggedly casual and defiantly at ease as ever. Remembering how unimpressed he was with ceremony, Hope felt a little swell of apprehension in her chest as he strode laconically toward her.

She didn’t know how this meeting was going to go. Even though she was still some ways away from her wide front porch, she did know he hadn’t shaved in at least twenty-four hours and there were telltale signs of travel fatigue both on his angular face and in the slow, weary movements of his lean, well-toned body. That probably meant he was just back in-country. He hadn’t cut his dark ash-blond hair in heaven knows when, and though the fine but abundant strands were combed neatly in a side part and pushed behind his ears, the unshorn style gave him a sexy, untamed look. He was so close to her own age, so different from Edmond, and so exciting.

In his professional and private life, Chase seemed to dare anything and for all his innate kindness and generosity, he seemed intent on pleasing only himself. And yet, she sensed, there was a part of him that seemed restless and unfulfilled and she wondered absently what it would take to make him feel replete. Not that he was inclined to give her any clue, of course. She had never had even the most cursory conversation with him one-on-one, never seen him look rattled. Never angry. Always cool and collected and somehow untouchable, emotionally as well as physically. And his enforced distance from her hurt as well as entranced. She knew he resented her for marrying his father, and also that he had no reason to resent her. But she could never tell him that, not without betraying Edmond. She had promised her husband that she would carry his secret with her to the grave. It was a promise she meant to keep.

“Mom, who is that?” Joey repeated, nudging her slightly.

Hope glanced back at her young son. He was still wearing his private-school uniform of gray slacks, navy blazer, white shirt. Puny in stature and bespectacled, he looked the antithesis of the healthy, robust, very laid-back and casual Chase. Chase had attended private school, too, albeit reluctantly. And maybe those years of forced formality were why he always refused to dress up now, unless it was absolutely unavoidable.

Putting her leather briefcase in one hand, her bag in the other, Hope said, “It’s your half brother, Chase, honey. You remember him, don’t you?”

“Oh,” Joey said in a voice that indicated he clearly did not remember Chase. “Yeah, sure.”

Of course, Hope thought, sighing inwardly, there was no reason why Joey should have remembered Chase. The funeral had been overflowing with people, she and Chase had made an art out of tactfully avoiding each other for years, and when he was in town, he’d managed to see his father only briefly before swiftly moving on.

So why was he here now? she wondered. What could he possibly want? And he did want something from her; she could tell by the look on his ruggedly handsome, sun-weathered face.

“Hope.” He nodded at her formally, making no effort to extend his hand.

Feeling ill at ease but determined not to show it, Hope nodded back stiffly. “Chase.” The moment drew out awkwardly, stretching her nerves unbearably thin as she realized close up, he was still as breathtakingly attractive as ever, still as able to wreak havoc on her senses. “I wasn’t aware you were in town.” Or that he still wore the deliciously rich, woodsy after-shave he had always favored.

He shoved a hand into his back pocket, the motion drawing his jeans tighter against the flatness of his abdomen, and fastened his hazel eyes on her face. “Just got in this afternoon,” he said laconically. His voice was a gravelly drawl and his eyes probed hers for a reaction.

He’d headed right over to see her, Hope realized with amazement, trying hard not to notice how soft and worn and snug those jeans were or how nicely they clung to the muscled contours of his trim waist, lean hips and long legs. Aware he was looking her over with the same in-depth appraisal, boldly examining every inch of her, it was all Hope could do to hold her ground.

Having apparently picked up her unaccustomed nervousness, Joey cast her a curious glance. “Is he gonna be staying with us, Mom?”

Chase can’t want to, Hope thought nervously, unable to tell from his defiantly impassive expression whether he found her changed or not. Because of Edmond, she had to offer her reluctant hospitality, “This is your home, too, Chase, and you’re welcome here anytime.” No matter how uncomfortably lonely you make me feel. Judging from the state of his clothes and his Jeep, he was as perennially short of cash as ever. He spent the yearly income from his lifetime trust almost as soon as it came. Usually, of course, he had quarterly profits from Barrister’s to tide him over as well, but Hope knew there had been no profits this quarter—or last. Which meant he was probably down to his last nickel.

“Thanks for the offer,” Chase said with a politeness as forced as her own, “but I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“You wouldn’t be imposing,” Hope countered cordially, again for her husband’s sake. She never wanted it said she hadn’t at least tried to make Chase welcome. While her husband had been alive, Chase had sometimes quartered in the guest house, however briefly. He’d maintained minimal contact with his father, none whatsoever with her and Joey. As far as she was concerned, he could continue to do the same. The guest house had a private entrance and driveway. As for her attraction to him, well, it was just something she would have to fight. She had conquered it before. She could conquer it again.

“Well,” Chase said awkwardly, confirming by his actions that he was indeed as short of cash as she suspected, “if you’re sure it’s no trouble and the guest house is available—”

“It is,” Joey cut in gregariously before Hope could verify the same.

“Well, fine, then. I’ll only be here a day or so, anyway,” Chase continued.

Hope tried very hard not to show her relief at that bit of news. One day of having him around she could handle, but not any more than that.

Aware her thoughts were straying into forbidden territory, she forced her mind back to the reason for his quick departure. “Still doing research in Brazil?” she asked, hoping fervently he hadn’t been able to read her thoughts.

“Costa Rica now. I’m not sure where I’ll be next.”

Joey touched Hope’s sleeve, subtly commanding her attention.

“Mom, is it okay if I go in now? I’m hungry.”

“Sure, honey. Just have Carmelita give you a snack. But don’t eat too much. Dinner’s going to be soon.” She looked at Chase, forcing herself to offer, even as she hoped he would refuse, “Will you be dining with us or do you have other plans?”

“No plans,” Chase said candidly, watching as Joey disappeared into the house. He turned back to Hope, his gaze intent and all encompassing, his purpose for being there as much a mystery as ever. He frowned and released a long, uneven breath, then seemed to have forced himself to speak. “Actually, Hope, a family dinner would be just the thing.”

For what? Hope wondered in complete unmitigated shock.



I’M HANDLING THIS all wrong, Chase thought, as he stood under the shower in the guest house, the hot clean water streaming over his skin. “Pretending that I feel like family when I don’t. Pretending I’m here for no reason in particular.” Yet try as he might, he had been unable to cut to the heart of the matter and ask her just what the hell was going on with the store. Especially with Joey standing there.

For one thing, he knew the economy in Texas was bad. The oil bust in the late eighties had affected everything and everyone. Businesses had gone under by the handful. People who had been millionaires all their lives had lost everything. Entire shopping centers had closed, and real-estate foreclosures occurred by the hundreds. But Barrister’s had not only survived, it had continued to do well, at least while his father was alive. Now, a year later, it was a different story. Now Hope was at the helm. Worse, she was as beautiful as ever and that wouldn’t make things easy.

He couldn’t stand by and let the business his father had built go down the drain, but he couldn’t just walk in and take the business away from Hope either. Not when he knew his father had wanted her to have it. Chase had no real interest in it, save keeping it afloat, but it was Hope’s life.

He had to find a way to turn things around, to ensure the livelihood for all of them continued. And he had to do it in a way that would’ve been okay with his father, which meant not getting rid of Hope. Realizing that, he swore roundly and grabbed for a towel. If this wasn’t an impossible task, he didn’t know what was.



“SO YOU GET TO SPEND weeks and weeks in the jungles, looking for cures for stuff like cancer and arthritis? And you don’t have to take a bath except when you want to and you get to sleep in a tent and cook on a camp fire every single night?” Joey asked Chase incredulously.

Chase chuckled. “That about sums it up, yeah, but it’s not nearly as glamorous as it sounds.”

The dry note in her stepson’s voice completely escaped her son, who was thrilled by Chase’s adventures. “Wow,” Joey continued, shaking his head admiringly. “I wish my mom would let me do stuff like that, but right now she won’t even let me go camping in New Mexico.”

Chase slanted Hope a measuring look. “You don’t approve of the great outdoors?”

It wasn’t that, although Chase was right to assume she wouldn’t want her son to ever have the kind of nomadic, no-ties life Chase reveled in. As far as she knew, Chase had never lacked in female companions, but he had never been serious about any woman except Lucy, and their brief engagement had ended almost as quickly and mysteriously as it had begun, years before. “Joey has asthma. He’s allergic to many of the tree and plant pollens. That’s why he can’t go camping.” A doctor himself, Chase should understand the risks.

Joey scowled. “If Dad were still here, he’d let me go.”

Unfortunately, Hope knew that was true. Edmond had been optimistic to a fault, in that regard. And because of that they’d had to continually deal with the consequences. “Joey—”

His pleasure in the meal with his half brother diminished, Joey said abruptly, “May I be excused, please?”

Realizing this was no time to get into a prolonged argument, Hope nodded her permission. “Be sure you finish your homework before you watch any television.”

“I will.” Joey put his napkin down next to his plate, then shoulders hunched in silent misery, marched off.

Embarrassed, Hope turned back to Chase. Suddenly the air between them was charged with electricity and none of it had to do with the emotional departure of her son. “Would you care for more coffee or dessert?” She was aware her voice and manners were stiff and mannequinlike, but was unable to do anything about it. She feared if she relaxed, even a tad, Chase would see through her flimsy defenses and realize how uneasy and self-conscious she felt, being there alone with him, especially now that she was single again.

He had eaten everything Carmelita put before him, as if he’d been starved for months. And she supposed where he had been, there had been a lack of elegant cuisine.

“I’ll pass on the seconds. Thanks. I do need to speak to you—privately.”

She had been expecting this. “Very well,” she said. She led the way to the heavy paneled library. Once inside, she shut the double oak doors firmly behind them and Chase got straight to the point.

“I’m concerned about Barrister’s.”

Hope felt her spine stiffen. As disinterested as Chase had always been in the store, she hadn’t expected this. Unable to keep the defensive note out of her voice, she retorted, “So am I.”

Chase smoothed his blond hair, then let his palm rest idly on the back of his neck.

Just shampooed, the sun-streaked strands gleamed like gold in the soft inside light, appearing very touchable and distracting in their sexy disarray. And he smelled just as fresh and male.

“Look, Hope,” he began rather gruffly, as he passed her in a wake of rich, woodsy after-shave, “I doubt I can say this without offending you—”

From the reluctant look on his face, she doubted it too. “Just get on with it,” she advised tensely, expecting the worst.

He dropped his hand and leaned against the marble fireplace. “All right.” More comfortable now, he met her gaze and continued flatly, “Popular opinion is you’re mismanaging Barrister’s.”

Hope hung on to her escalating temper with all her might. “Then popular opinion is wrong,” she corrected, just as bluntly.

His fair brow lifted slightly at her tone. “I wish I could believe that,” he said tersely. Then in a softer, more resigned tone, he added, “Try to understand. This isn’t personal, but I can’t let my father’s work end in Chapter Eleven.”

As the threat of what he was saying became real, Hope’s shock abated. “I’m well aware of what happened to Frost Brothers,” she said icily. She got up and moved around the room restlessly. Then she whirled to face Chase, the awkward silence doing nothing to diffuse her anger. “You can rest assured I won’t let Barrister’s end in bankruptcy.” The business meant too much to her. Apart from Joey, it was her whole life.

He crossed his arms at his waist and looked at her frankly. He wasn’t about to give in to every whim. Unlike Edmond, he didn’t care if she was displeased or not. “Neither will I,” he said flatly.

Aware her hands were shaking, she shoved them into the pockets of her skirt. Although she knew him to be a formidable opponent, she had never expected this from Chase, and it threw her. “What do you mean?” With effort, she kept her voice harsh, exacting.

His hazel eyes darkened in a similar show of emotion. “I inherited thirty percent of the stock, Hope. My mother owns ten percent of it.”

Her pulse thudded faster. “Are you asking me to buy your shares?” She faced him in disbelief, disappointment stabbing at her like a knife.

“No.” He shook his head grimly. “I’m asking you to step down as president, effective immediately, and let the board of directors appoint someone else to run it.”

Hope stared at him, feeling both shocked and annoyed at his matter-of-fact tone. Once the conversation had turned to the store, she had braced herself for complaints from Chase about the lack of profits in the past two quarters, but she had never expected this. Knowing Chase and Rosemary Barrister, perhaps she should have expected it. Neither had ever liked her. Neither had been happy when Edmond left forty-eight percent of the stock to her and recommended she replace him as president. But until now, neither had fought her, either. Knowing how rich people liked to hold onto what they had, as well as what they didn’t, she supposed she should have seen this coming.

“Your father wanted me to run the store, Chase,” she pointed out reasonably. “He spent ten years grooming me to do just that.”

Again, Chase managed to look torn. “I know how hard you’ve worked,” he soothed. “I’m sorry it hasn’t worked out.”

Silence fell between them once more and she studied him relentlessly. As hard as it was for her to admit, Hope saw this wasn’t revenge on his part. He wasn’t trying to hurt her, just to salvage what was left of the business. What he didn’t know was that she was already one step ahead of him, and had been for several months.

“I don’t agree that it hasn’t worked out,” she countered practically. “But I do share your concern. That’s why I’ve called a meeting with the buyers tomorrow morning at nine sharp, to outline some immediate changes that will turn business around. You’re welcome to sit in if you like.”

His mouth twisted unhappily. “One meeting with the buyers isn’t going to change anything, Hope.”

He was underestimating her. In a crisp businesslike tone, she repeated firmly, “The meeting’s at nine sharp, Chase. I assume I’ll see you there?”

Realizing evidently he owed her at least that much, he held her gaze a long moment, looking into her eyes until she flushed and had to fight herself not to back away. Then he nodded his agreement circumspectly.

She hadn’t changed his mind, but what the hell, he thought, he’d give her one more day. For his dad’s sake and for Joey’s. But then he would have to lower the ax. Like it or not, he had no choice. “I’ll be there,” he promised inexorably, letting none of his emotions show. “You can count on it.”




Chapter Two


Knowing she had a battle in front of her, Hope walked into the conference room with her head held high. She took her place at the head of the table and motioned for everyone else in the room to sit. Among the buyers was Chase Barrister. In a dark blue suit and tie, he looked very somber and businesslike. He’d also had a haircut, and the dark ash-blond layers were arranged in a neat, preppy style. Used to seeing him more casually dressed, his blond hair rumpled, his posture defiantly casual and laid-back, Hope was disconcerted by his formal attire and exacting attitude. For the first time, he looked a lot like Edmond—powerful, observant, demanding. And though Chase had always possessed Edmond’s wit, intelligence and consummate people-sense, he had never shown the slightest inclination to indulge her the way Edmond had. Realizing that, Hope felt her nerves jangle. And she wasn’t the only one on edge.

She could see that the seasoned staff was wondering at Chase’s presence, too. Although he had worked at the store, summers, while in college, he had not expressed any interest since. He never attended board meetings, never mind Hope’s weekly conferences with the staff. Deciding the only way to get through this was to plunge right in, she said, “You’re all aware of the lack of recent profits. To survive, Barrister’s is going to have to change. We can no longer cater strictly to the socialites. We’re going to have to try to capture some of the yuppie market, too.”

“You’re not serious, are you?” Steve Supack asked, his look both astonished and grim. Informal spokesperson for group, Steve was in his mid-forties. He had been with the the company for over twenty years, working his way up steadily from clerk to head buyer for menswear. Although he did not have a college degree, his sense of style and ability to please even the rudest, most discriminating customer had proved invaluable. Edmond had trusted him implicitly.

“I never kid about anything this important,” Hope said, meeting Steve’s level gaze. She knew they were all thinking that if the prices and quality of the merchandise went down, so would the size of their sales commissions. She had also known for some time that this had to be done and that it was going to be an uphill battle. Change was never easy, even when it was necessary. She would face criticism from every source—clients, rival businesspeople, and her own employees. But it was the only way she knew to save what had been her late husband’s life work, and preserve her young son’s inheritance. So persevere she must, no matter how formidable the odds or how disbelieving her employees.

“The changes will be effective immediately. We are going to cater to a broader range of clients, carry fewer high-ticket items, do away with all in-store displays of whimsical gifts, and become a more mainstream department store.”

She glanced at the sea of apprehensive faces, purposefully avoiding Chase’s steady, intent gaze. This was hard enough without worrying about what he thought of her ability to run the business, too. She would deal with him later, only when she absolutely had to. Right now, she was concerned about her employees.

She understood and shared the fear of the thirty buyers in front of her. If her plan didn’t work, they would doubtless join the stream of other elitist family-owned department stores that had filed for bankruptcy in recent years. But she also understood what they didn’t, and what she hoped Chase would soon, that this was the only chance they had to survive. “We’ll begin with the Houston Galleria store. If the changes test successfully here, we will change all the other Barrister’s around the country in the fall.”

“What do the Board of Directors have to say about this?” a feminine voice from the back challenged openly.

Hope looked up and her heart sank as she focused on the thin blond socialite. It was Rosemary Barrister, Edmond’s first wife! When had she walked in?

Chase turned at the sound of his mother’s voice. Hope noted, with something akin to satisfaction and surprise, that he didn’t look any happier to see his jet-setting mother than she felt. Holding her voice steady, despite the hatred and resentment she felt emanating from the other woman, Hope answered firmly, “The Board has already approved my plan.”

Rosemary shook her head. “You’re going to ruin the reputation of this store.”

Everyone whispered, apparently agreeing with Rosemary.

Hope struggled to control the meeting. “There won’t be a Barrister’s if we don’t make the changes necessary to survive in today’s more competitive marketplace.”

Apparently she succeeded in getting across just how desperate their situation was, for the staff fell silent. Feeling drained, and fearing another rude outburst from the volatile Rosemary, Hope dismissed the group of buyers, adding, “I’ll expect to see your revised stock orders on my desk one week from today.”

The mood somber, everyone filed out. Some, like Steve Supack, who had known the family for years, paused to say hello to Rosemary. Chase got up and walked to the window overlooking West-heimer.

Wishing to avoid a run-in with Rosemary, Hope began stuffing papers into her briefcase. To no avail. The minute the conference room had cleared out, a belligerent Rosemary shut the heavy oak doors and faced Hope and Chase. “I’ll see you in hell before I let you destroy Barrister’s!” she warned.

“Mother,” Chase said curtly, looking as aggrieved as Hope felt.

“I told you I’d handle this.”

“Look at her!” Rosemary said. “Barrister’s is being ruined. And she still looks like she has the world by the tail!”

Chase looked at Hope. His mother was right about that. Hope did look fantastic, even under fire. But then she always had. That had been part of the problem. Even at a very young, naive nineteen she had possessed a strikingly sensual beauty that had doubtless haunted every man who’d ever come in contact with her. She had wide, vulnerable blue eyes, a generous mouth, bee-stung lips, and pearly white teeth. Those features along with the silky thickness of her dark hair and fair skin never failed to command a second, and third look from men and women alike. And though Chase had tried to remain unaffected, he had noticed. He had always noticed, even to his considerable guilt, when his father was alive.

It didn’t help matters to notice that in the years since Joey’s birth, her slim figure had filled out. Now, her curves were more lush and womanly beneath her white wool dress and red blazer.

If they’d met under any other circumstances, he wouldn’t have bothered to hide how he felt, but would have pursued her with everything he had, not stopping until she was his. But that hadn’t happened. He’d met her as his father’s wife and he still had to try to think of her that way, out of respect. To do otherwise would be wrong.

Oblivious to his traitorous thoughts, Hope turned to his mother and said in a soothing tone, “I’m sorry you’re upset, Rosemary. Believe me, this pains me as much as it does you.”

“I doubt that,” Rosemary said, making no effort to hide the malevolence in her voice.

Chase saw a flash of hurt, then anger, in Hope’s eyes. Knowing his mother’s formidable temper, and fearing this would turn into an out and out brawl if left unchecked, Chase touched his mother’s arm in a calming gesture. He may not have wanted her here, but now that she was, he would have to deal with her, too. “Mother, I’d like to speak to Hope alone.”

Rosemary hesitated, then nodded stiffly. “Shall I wait for you outside?”

“Please.”

He waited until his mother had departed, then aware they hadn’t much time, turned to Hope and got straight to the point. “I agree with Steve Supack and my mother. Changing the image of the store may do more harm than good, at this point.”

Striding back to her briefcase, Hope clicked it open, pulled out a sheaf of papers and handed it to him. “Those are the demographics on our latest sales figures and the market projections for the rest of the year, as well as the next decade. I think, Chase, if you study them you’ll see I am well-advised to make the changes I’ve outlined.”

Surprised by her professionalism and her calm in the light of so much tension, Chase hooked a booted foot beneath the lower rung of a wheeled conference chair and pulled it out. He sank into it. He was aware of her standing behind him, so closely he could hear her soft, steady breaths and inhale the sophisticated sexy scent of her perfume. He tried to glance through the papers.

Unfortunately, with Hope so close, it was all but impossible for him to concentrate. Briefly he considered asking her to wait outside while he read, then promptly discarded that idea. If he did so, Rosemary would wonder why, and he didn’t need his mother’s prurient curiosity. Finally, with a great deal of effort, he managed to scan the reports, he saw she’d done a thorough, accurate job. Market projections were just that, however, projections. His mind on business once again, he frowned. “It’s still a risk.” And more to the point, he wasn’t sure hers was a course his father would ever have condoned.

“A risk I’m willing to take,” she pointed out calmly.

“Suppose I’m not?”

“It isn’t up to you,” she pointed out levelly. As much as he searched he could find no bitterness or resentment in her eyes, just a quiet practicality that was almost as unnerving as her beauty.

Realizing he was thinking of her as a desirable woman again, one he had no right to yearn for or to know more intimately, Chase pushed the thoughts away. He had to think about business, nothing more. If he didn’t, his feelings of guilt and disloyalty would eat him alive.

Chase turned his gaze back to the papers with a grimace of concentration. He knew that Hope held the upper hand in terms of stock; for the moment anyway. She had the controlling interest. If the Board of Directors was behind her, she had the power to do anything she wanted.

Besides, maybe Hope was right. She had been here, working diligently for the past ten years. Her commitment to Barrister’s granted her this chance to try to save it her way. “All right,” he conceded finally, feeling in his gut he was doing the only decent thing. “I’ll make no move to stop you from executing your plans.”

Hope didn’t so much as blink. She faced him quietly. “What about Rosemary?”

Hope was clearly worried about his mother, and she had every right to be. “I’ll see she gives you a clear path, too. For a short time,” he specified firmly.

Hope frowned and her blue eyes grew troubled. “How short a time?”

Chase did some rapid calculations. “Three months ought to be enough to turn it around.” If your plan is going to work, he added mentally.

She heaved a sigh of unmasked exasperation. “I’ll need at least six months, Chase, with no interference from either of you.”

He shook his head. “Three is all I’m offering, Hope. Take it or leave it.”

Silence fell between them. “I’ll take it,” she retorted glumly. He started to return the papers, but she shook her head and waved her hand, indicating she didn’t want them. “Your mother might want to see those. Perhaps they’ll reassure her.”

Chase doubted that. Rosemary’s resentment of Hope was deep and unrelenting; he suspected it always would be. But he said nothing as Hope snapped the locks on either side of her briefcase handle.

“Now that this is settled, I presume you’ll be leaving for Costa Rica?”

He only wished it were that easy. “Not exactly. I’m short of funds. The lack of profits caught us unaware. I loaned money to my mother to pay the rent on her villa in Monte Carlo. So, until I can scrounge up more money for my research, I’ll be staying in Houston, keeping tabs on what’s going on here personally.”

Staying on, she thought. If he did that, they’d be seeing each other almost twenty-four hours a day, both at work and at home. They’d take meals together. Where she may have wanted to be closer to Chase for Edmond’s sake and for the reunification of the Barrister family, she had never wanted this. Especially not when she knew how attracted she was to him, that she had only to look at him or be near to him to feel a resurgence of desire. And yet, because he was Edmond’s son and had once lived there, too, she could hardly tell him to go.

Feeling like she’d sustained a strong blow to the chest, Hope struggled to catch her breath and keep her voice noncommittal and even. “How long?”

Looking totally unaffected by her reluctance to have him underfoot, Chase shrugged. “Until I get enough to underwrite another expedition.”

That could take weeks, even months, Hope knew. Weeks of unbearable tension, of dealing with him, and of seeing him at all hours of the day and night, maybe even in his pajamas! If he wore pajamas. Something told her he didn’t. What was she going to do? Simultaneously desperate to get him out from underfoot, and feeling she owed him whatever financial help she could spare, because of Edmond, she offered to help speed him on his way. “Look, I don’t have a lot of ready cash available to me either right now, but if your returning to Costa Rica is a matter of a simple plane fare and a few months provisions, a guide, I could—”

“Why would you want to do that for me?” he cut in abruptly, regarding her suspiciously. He knew, she felt, that she very much wanted to get rid of him A.S.A.P.

“Because you’re Edmond’s son.” Because I find you distracting and attractive and it’s killing me inside because even though I’m single now it makes me feel disloyal to Edmond. Because I know you think the worst of me, that I married Edmond for his money when in reality money never had anything to do with my feelings for your father. But knowing she’d never convince anyone of that, never mind Chase, she decided to concentrate on the aspects of their relationship they could discuss.

“So?” he challenged mildly. “I’m Edmond’s son? I’m not yours.”

How well she knew that. Struggling for equilibrium, Hope said, “You’re family, Chase.” Neither of us might have chosen it, but there it is. I have to do what Edmond would have wanted. And beyond that, for reasons she couldn’t really define, she wanted to help Chase achieve his goals and be happy. After all, their family difficulties aside, he was a kind, selfless person, in ways that she truly admired. It felt right somehow that she help him. “You’re family,” she repeated.

He shook his head in mute disagreement, denying it with all he was worth. “That bond ended when my father died.”

What bond? Hope wanted to say. He had never so much as given her the time of day. And that had hurt, knowing that he wouldn’t give her a chance.

He wished she didn’t look so hurt, dejected and crushed. Brushing her off wasn’t something he wanted to do; it was a familial decency that was required of him.

To his chagrin, Hope’s expression remained desolate, as if she were taking his rejection personally. He sighed regretfully. He felt a lot of things for Hope; he didn’t want to add guilt for hurting her feelings to the list. And he didn’t think his Dad would’ve wanted it, either. “But you’re right,” Chase said, picking up the thread of the conversation uncomfortably. “I am anxious to be out of here.” Away from the temptation of you. “But as much as I want to get back to work I can’t take your money, Hope.” Not knowing that despite all their best efforts, the store might fold anyway. She would still have Joey to raise, and thus would need every cent she had.

Hope was silent, remembering, he expected, that he had never taken money from his father for his expeditions, either. Chase noticed with relief that her hurt expression was beginning to fade.

“I understand,” she empathized softly.

Good. “Which leaves me only one choice,” Chase continued.

“For you to stay on at the house with me,” Hope guessed in a voice quavering with unspoken emotion.

Silence fell between them. For a moment, neither spoke. Neither needed to. They both knew how difficult it would be for the two of them to share space for even a short period of time, never mind the weeks or months he was proposing.

“I won’t get in your way,” Chase promised gruffly. “Or Joey’s—”

“I know.”

“And tell Carmelita not to worry about me, either. I don’t want her trooping over to make my bed.”

Hope felt her cheeks warm. “All right,” she murmured in agreement. She didn’t want to know what was going on or not going on in Chase’s bedroom, either.

He shoved his suit coat back and put his hands on his hips. He assessed her bluntly. “It’ll still be awkward for you, won’t it?”

“A little,” she agreed, working to keep the heat out of her cheeks. Lamely, she added, “Joey and I aren’t used to having anyone else around except Carmelita. But I’m sure we can cope,” she said hastily after a moment, embarrassed again.

He nodded his understanding, looking both grateful for the hospitality and wary of the probable complications to come and suddenly Hope knew. He’s attracted to me, too, she thought, seeing it in the abrupt tenseness of his frame and the way he suddenly wouldn’t look into her eyes. But because of Edmond he wouldn’t do anything about it, either, she noted with equally strong feelings of relief and disappointment.

“Hope?” Leigh Olney, the new buyer for Children’s Wear, interrupted them. Although she had only been hired recently, Leigh had quickly made herself indispensable. She was already the most flexible of the staff. “Sorry to interrupt but there’s—” Leigh looked at Chase and faltered. “A surprise in your office that—uh—needs your attention right away.”

It was clear to Hope from the excited look on Leigh’s face that the twenty-four-year old thought she was doing her a giant favor. And also that the surprise couldn’t wait another moment. Glad for the reason to excuse herself from Chase, and from the unexpected realization that he was as uncomfortably aware of her as a woman as she was of him as a man, she said, “I’m sorry, Chase, I’ve got to go.”

Still puzzling over Leigh’s excited expression, she walked to her office, wondering all the while what the surprise could be. It wasn’t her birthday or her anniversary with the store, or even the date she had taken over as president of Barrister’s. Yet the usually unflappable Leigh had acted as if she had an entire surprise party awaiting her. Shrugging it off, she stepped inside her office and closed the door behind her.

And it was then that she saw him, standing next to the polished oak sideboard Edmond had installed in the far corner. Although expertly cut, the jazzy teal blazer, white slacks and shirt, did little to disguise the fact he was now a good twenty pounds overweight. Above the knot of his silk tie, his deeply tanned face had the pinched look of recent plastic surgery. Years had passed and he had aged badly, but as long as she lived she would never forget Russell Morris’s aristocratic face or his soulless deep blue eyes.

Her stomach churning with long suppressed memories, she drew on every ounce of gentility she had worked to possess and asked crisply, “How may I be of help to you?” She knew, from reading the Wall Street Journal, that his family-owned firm was in big trouble, too. It had been since the day he’d inherited it five years prior. Currently, if she guessed right, Russell Morris was probably close to losing everything, too.

Russell turned, a handful of the Godiva chocolates she kept just for Joey in his palm. “Is this any way to greet an old friend?” he asked. He voluptuously downed one of the expensive treats.

First off, we were never friends, she thought. A friend would never have done to me what you did. Her back stiffened in a way that let him know she wasn’t about to be taken advantage of by him again. No longer an innocent young girl, she was stronger now, smarter. She gave him a warning look and said briskly, “I’m very busy—”

“I imagine you are, Hope,” he interrupted smoothly. The cruel lines of his mouth flattened even more. “All these stores you inherited from that rich husband of yours aren’t doing very well.” He finished the last of the chocolates he’d pilfered, then dusted off his hands. The look he gave her was smug and insinuating. Remembering the past, it was all she could do to keep from flying at him and flailing him with both fists. She hated him that much.

“Is there a point to this?” she asked stiffly. She wanted nothing more than to get him out before there was a scene and before Chase discovered him there.

“If you’ll let me get to it.” Briefly Russell’s voice held the old autocratic edge she detested, then it dropped even lower, so it was slick and soft and totally insincere. “I can help you, Hope,” he said guilelessly, moving two steps nearer.

The smell of his cologne, even at a distance, made her ill, and it was all she could do to swallow the bile rising in her throat.

“I know you need it,” Russell continued. “That’s why I’ve come.”

Even if the past hadn’t stood between them, there was no way she would have ever let anyone as selfish and remorseless as he anywhere near her beloved Barrister’s.

“I don’t think so,” she corrected archly.

Her skin crawling because of his nearness, she turned and moved purposefully to the door. She had to get him out of her office before the loathing she felt inside got the better of her. What had happened in the past was horrible but it was over, she schooled herself firmly. She had to make sure it stayed that way, for all their sakes. She yanked open the door and waved him on his way.

He stayed where he was, as arrogant and presumptuous as ever. “That’s it? You’re going to dismiss me without even hearing me out?” he asked in disbelief, as if she were the one in the wrong. Straightening lazily, he moved toward her, one manicured hand held out beseechingly.

As the distance between them narrowed, her stomach lurched again. Working hard to hide the insistent trembling of her hands, she gave him a look that spoke volumes about the way she felt. And would always feel. “I see no reason to waste our time.”

“I run Morris Fabrics now—”

“I’m well aware of all you have inherited.” The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach increased. He’d inherited the power, the wealth, and the complete and utter lack of scruples.

“And?”

Her chin high, she said, “I have no desire to do business with your family firm, now or at any time in the future.” She wanted to make that very clear.

Russell’s expression turned ugly. “You’re making a mistake,” he warned, his eyes flashing in anger. “I could have cut you quite a deal.”

The only thing she wanted from him was to be left alone. Pasting an official smile on her face, she stalked out, and on her way, asked the nearest security guard to please escort Mr. Morris to his car and see that he got off all right. As always, Russell knew when to cut his losses and move on to greener pastures. He said nothing more, save a falsely cordial public farewell.

“So how was it?” an excited Leigh Olney asked when she saw Hope again an hour later. At Hope’s blank look, Leigh elaborated, “Your reunion with your old high-school buddy? Russell Morris said the two of you hadn’t seen one another in years.”

Hope wished fervently it had stayed that way.

Leigh continued with cheerful candor, “He figured you’d be really surprised, and I guess you were.”

Stunned and heartsick was more like it, Hope thought. Gathering her wits, Hope said, “To tell you the truth, Leigh, we weren’t that close back then. He’s just down on his luck right now. And I can’t help him. That being the case, I’d prefer not to see him again.”

Leigh looked crushed. “I’m sorry, Hope. The guy led me to believe—I mean he’s the heir to Morris Fabrics and all and you’re running this place—I just naturally thought—”

“I know you did, and it’s okay.” Hope knew how charming Russell could be when he put his mind to it. She sighed, “Mr. Morris has a way of implying closeness where none exists.”

Leigh nodded, understanding that much very well. It was clear from the look on her face that nothing more needed to be said. “Listen, about the meeting this morning. I want you to know I’m behind you all the way.”

“Thanks. I’m going to need every bit of help I can get,” Hope said. Especially since neither Chase nor Rosemary was in her corner, she thought.

Unfortunately Hope’s day didn’t get any better. One by one, buyers came in to express their concerns about the new direction she had charted for Barrister’s and the security of their jobs. She felt exhausted and depressed while she was driving home, but began to relax when she entered the house and caught a whiff of Carmelita’s delicious lemon chicken.

After a long, hot soak in the tub and a glass of wine, she’d be able to forget all about her horrendous day and Russell Morris. By the time Joey arrived home from Little League practice, all would be back to normal. Or as close as it could be, with Chase living in the guest house out back, she amended wryly.

Unfortunately, Hope hadn’t gotten any further than kicking off her heels and putting down her briefcase when the front door banged open and Joey came running in, his head ducked down in shame. Tears streamed down his face. “My God, what happened?” she cried, looking at the swelling bruise that seemed to cover most of his upper cheek and all of his left eye. Where were his glasses?

He tried to shrug it off and escape further maternal scrutiny. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing!” Hope cried. She stepped in front of him, latched on to his arm and gently but firmly prevented his escape to his bedroom.

Carmelita gasped as she joined them. In her mid-thirties, the slim housekeeper had lived with them since Joey was born. As emotional as she was kind, the devoted employee loved Joey almost as fiercely as Hope did. “Oh, no, Joey,” Carmelita said, wringing her hands.

“This looks wicked,” Hope said seriously. She started for the telephone. “I’m calling the doctor.”

“Mom, no—” Joey dashed after her and grabbed her sleeve. “Don’t—”

Looking more panic-stricken than ever, Carmelita said, “I’ll get Mr. Chase. He’s a doctor. He will know what to do.” Not waiting for Hope’s permission, Carmelita took off at a run.

Realizing what a big deal was going to be made out of this, Joey swore, using language a flabbergasted Hope had never heard coming from his mouth. That mouth, now that she looked at it, seemed a little swollen, too. And there was a tear in the sleeve of his T-shirt. Slowly she put down the phone. She still intended to call the doctor if necessary, but later, when she had a bit more information. Hands on her hips, she faced her young son. “What happened to you?”

His lower lip shot out in mutiny. “I got in a fight, okay?” he said rebelliously.

This was a first and completely unlike Joey. She faced him incredulously, bending her knees slightly until she and Joey were at eye level. “Why?” It didn’t take a genius to realize Joey didn’t want to say, which made her all the more anxious.

“What’s going on?” Chase asked breathlessly. He joined them, Carmelita fast on his heels. He’d obviously been dressing when Carmelita summoned him. Rather than finish, he’d merely grabbed his shirt and boots. Even now, the top two buttons on his jeans had been left undone. Hope, concerned only for her son, was not about to point out that omission to Chase as he pulled on a soft rumpled navy work shirt and began to button it over the broad expanse of his suntanned chest.

Hope turned her gaze up to Chase’s face, wishing he weren’t here to witness this. “Joey got in a fight,” she reported in a highly emotional voice.

Joey rolled his eyes. Too late Hope realized, as evidently did Chase, that smothering concern was not what her son needed or wanted at this moment. Looking as unperturbed as she was upset, Chase grinned at Joey, then shook his head in silent remonstration. Bracing a shoulder against the wall, he asked laconically, with the overt nonchalance only another man could feel at a time like this, “Well, did you lose or win?”

Surprised and pleased by Chase’s more understanding reaction to his troubles, Joey had to think about that. “It was a tie, I guess, since one of the twins ended up with a split lip.”

Hope whirled on Chase, exasperated. She fixed him with a quelling look he just as deliberately ignored. She realized she had signed up for the misadventure of her life by permitting him to stay. She would have to really work to see he didn’t get the upper hand with her or negatively influence her son into adapting his renegade ways. “Chase!” Hope scolded. That he would encourage this kind of macho behavior with her son incensed her. She had wanted him to do the exact opposite. Otherwise, she never would have let Carmelita run to get him.

Chase paused only to give her a look that indicated she was supposed to let him handle this, his way. Whether that was because he was a physician or Joey’s brother, she didn’t know. Chase gave Hope another I-know-what-I’m-doing look, put a hand on Joey’s shoulder and propelled him in the direction of the guest bath that was tucked under the stairs. “Let’s get you in here and washed up a bit. Carmelita,” he instructed kindly, knowing how anxious Hope’s live-in housekeeper was to be helpful, “we could do with an ice pack if you’ve got one.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Chase.” Carmelita scurried off to do his bidding.

Chase ignored Hope and their close proximity to each other in the tiny room. He settled his young patient on the closed seat of the commode, then raided the medicine cabinet for supplies, taking out bandages, antiseptic wipes and antibiotic cream.

Hope wanted to be in the room but she didn’t want to be in the way, so she moved back as far as she could go. She found herself braced against the far wall, with her hip wedged against the sink. Chase’s shoulder was within a hair’s breadth of hers. Maybe I should have stayed in the doorway, she thought, but it was too late. Chase’s body was already blocking the only way out. She had no choice but to stay where she was and suffer through their enforced closeness silently.

Watching Chase gently examine Joey’s scrapes and bruises was adequate distraction, however. She observed with uncharacteristic helplessness; prior to this she had always been the one who bandaged Joey after a mishap. She was struck by not only Chase’s gentleness and physician’s expertise, but also by his innate talent for dealing with kids, period. Chase was a very good doctor, she admitted grudgingly, but his ability to handle young patients didn’t exactly jibe with his irresponsible, nomadic life-style. Did he miss having kids himself? she wondered absently as Chase took a closer look at a long, rather nasty-looking scrape under Joey’s chin. He seemed to find it nothing to worry about and only cleaned it without comment. Would Chase have kids now if his engagement to Lucy had worked out? Chase was so closemouthed about his private life; no one knew why his engagement to Lucy had ended. Certainly she’d been beautiful and intelligent, if a bit aloof and almost superficial at times.

But that was none of her business, Hope reminded herself sternly, turning her attention back to the unfolding drama. From what she could judge as Chase swabbed antiseptic on the scratch beneath Joey’s chin, then daubed it with cream and fastened a bandage over it, Joey was in fair shape, all things considered.

That being the case, the conversation shifted back to how Joey had gotten into his predicament. At Chase’s gentle, pragmatic urging, the story came tumbling out.

“Well, see, it was like this. The Bateman twins said I was a sissy and shouldn’t be allowed to play at all ’cause sometimes I lose my breath and have to stop and use my inhaler. I got mad and called them a name back. A—uh—real bad one, Chase.” When Joey admitted this to his half brother, Hope sighed and rolled her eyes.

“And then one of them punched me and I punched one of them. The next thing I knew somebody’d knocked my glasses off and I was on the ground, fighting both of them.”

Both Batemans against little Joey! Hope felt color drain from her face. Those twins outweighed him by twenty pounds apiece, and were sturdy and muscular to boot. They could have really hurt him. Or brought on a full-blown asthma attack. But they hadn’t, she reminded herself firmly. Hanging on to her composure by a thread, nevertheless, she asked as calmly as possible, “Where are your glasses now?”

“Dunno.” Joey shrugged. Apparently that was the least of his worries.

“Well, you defended yourself courageously and held your own and that’s something,” Chase remarked. He gently cleansed the bruised skin around Joey’s left eye. “You’re going to have a shiner here, all right.” Chase straightened and held up three fingers.

Hope had to flatten herself against the sink to avoid rubbing up against Chase from shoulder to thigh. “How many?” Chase asked, his eyes riveted on her son.

“Three.”

Chase nodded in satisfaction then gave Joey his laconic smile. “Well, I guess you’ll live.”

He might, Hope thought wryly. But she was going to die from lack of oxygen if she didn’t get out of there soon. Standing this close to Chase for such a prolonged period of time made it a little difficult to breathe. Fortunately Carmelita was back, ice pack in hand.

Still steadfastly ignoring Hope, Chase put the ice pack in Joey’s hand and pressed it to his eye. “You need to keep that on for twenty minutes, then off for twenty, then on again the rest of the night. Got that?” he instructed his young patient kindly. “It’ll keep the swelling down.”

“Okay.” Joey started to get up.

“Just a minute, young man,” Hope said. There was a lot more she wanted to know. “Where was your coach when all this brawling was going on?”

“Over by the fence. Why?”

“And he let you boys fight?”

Joey shrugged his thin shoulders. “Well yeah, until the end, then he broke it up.”

“I don’t believe this!” Hope said, turning on her heel. She slipped past Chase, narrowly avoiding a collision, and slipped out into the hall. As far as she was concerned, the fight should have been stopped at the name-calling stage. One punch thrown was too many.

Joey dashed after her, catching up when she reached the telephone table in the hall. “Mom, you’re not going to call the coach, are you?” he asked anxiously.

“I most certainly am. This is not acceptable behavior. And if he doesn’t understand that, then I’m pulling you off the team.”

“You’d make me quit?” Joey cried. He sounded both incensed and fearful.

“Rather than have you hurt, yes, I would,” Hope said firmly, reaching for the phone.

“Wait a minute here, Hope.” Chase put his hand over hers, using just enough pressure to prevent her from picking up the receiver. His hand acted like a bolt of lightning on her already highly charged emotions. She froze, paralyzed both by the cool, adult determination in his hazel eyes and by the extraordinarily sensual heat that radiated from her fingers, through her arm, to her chest. She didn’t want to let him, or anyone else for that matter, tell her what to do about her son. Still, Chase’s insistent male presence was as hard to fight as his low, persuasive voice. “Yes, the boys got in a brawl, but there was no real harm done. The other kids were all right, too, weren’t they?” Still touching Hope’s hand, Chase looked at Joey for confirmation.

Joey nodded. And where Chase’s hand met hers, Hope’s skin began to burn and tingle.

“Everyone lost their tempers,” Chase continued reassuringly. He looked at Hope, his intent gaze searing hers. “I’m sure it won’t happen again.”

“You’re darn right about that,” Hope muttered. Her anger about the indignity her son had suffered returned full force. She still planned to call the coach and tell him exactly what she thought of him but Chase kept his hand squarely on hers. Hope wanted nothing more than to jerk her hand free of his light but implacably confining grip. Not about to tussle with him in front of Joey for ownership of the receiver, however, and knowing Chase wouldn’t give it to her willingly, Hope remained where she was, glaring up at Chase all the while.

Joey swallowed. “Mom, you’re not going to try to get the twins kicked off the team, are you?” he asked in abject misery, as if the possibility would be unbearably humiliating

Hope considered the call something that had to be done. Those twins had been trouble for a long time. Just because their father owned an oil company, they thought they could do anything and get away with it. Unfortunately, usually they did. Not afraid to take a stand, she said, “Under the circumstances, those Bateman twins shouldn’t go unpunished. You could have really been hurt. The next time you, or whoever else they decide to pick on, might not be so lucky.”

“Mom, there isn’t going to be a next time. Please. Don’t do anything!” Joey wailed. Hope said nothing in reply. She wasn’t about to commit to any line of action before she’d had time to think it through. Joey glared at her in mute exasperation. To her increasing aggravation, Chase looked equally pained.

“About your glasses—is there any chance they’re still at the field?” Chase asked.

“Maybe.” Joey shrugged, distracted. “If they’re not, am I gonna have to pay for new ones?”

Hope ran her free hand through her hair. She hadn’t felt so harried or distressed in a very long time. This wasn’t the worst day she had ever had, but it was certainly a close second. Chase seemed to intuit that; he kept his hand squarely over hers, more in empathy now than remonstration. “I don’t know, Joey,” Hope answered her son tiredly, aware he was still waiting for an answer. “I’ll have to think about it.” She wanted him to be responsible for his belongings, and not take them or the money it cost to buy them for granted. But was this his fault?

Abruptly Joey looked as emotionally wiped out as she felt. “Can I go up to my room now, Mom? I want to lie down.”

Hope shot a concerned glance at her son. It wasn’t like him to want to take a nap, even after practice. “You’re sure you’re okay?” she pressed.

Joey rolled his eyes. “Yes!” He shot a worshipful look at his half brother. “Thanks, Chase. For fixing me up and talking to my mom. You know, calming her down and stuff,” Joey said shyly.

Chase held Joey’s eyes and touched his shoulder with fraternal affection. “Take care of that eye now, you hear?”

“I will,” Joey promised as he moved up the stairs.

Watching him go, Hope was struck by how young he looked. Only when he’d disappeared did Chase let go of her hand. And though she’d resented the way he had physically taken control of her and the situation, Hope found her hand now felt oddly naked and vulnerable without the warm cover of his.

Telling herself she couldn’t let Chase affect her this way, especially now that he was staying there, Hope turned her mind back to Joey’s troubles. “I’m still calling that coach,” she muttered.

“Do so,” Chase warned with a daunting raise of his brow, “and that son of yours will never forgive you.”

She looked at him in surprise, shocked not only by the quiet vehemence in his voice, but by his unaccustomed willingness to inject himself so fully into her and Joey’s lives. The Chase she had known in the past had always watched family dramas from a distance, never risking personal involvement. Was it possible he had changed or matured? Or was this shift due to Edmond’s death and to Chase’s own decision to assume more responsibility for the Barrister family and business, as a whole? She had no chance to ask; Chase was already heading for the front door.

“I assume Little League still practices at the park down the street?” he asked a trifle impatiently.

Hope stared after him, her feelings in turmoil. “Yes, they do.” Her voice sounded as dry and parched as her throat felt.

“I’ll run over and see if I can find Joey’s glasses. Or what’s left of them. And Hope,” he reiterated, turning to give her a meaningful look, “I meant what I said. Don’t do anything until you’ve had a chance to calm down.” His face looked tanned and healthy in the dwindling sunlight; he fastened his hazel eyes on hers and she knew in that one fleeting instant of visual contact that she had more than met her match. He turned and left.

Hope stared after him, bewildered and confused by his actions and yet oddly and perhaps inappropriately drawn to him all the same. When had he started caring what happened to her or her son? she wondered. And why was just the notion of that as disconcerting as the warm, insistent touch of his hand?




Chapter Three


Short moments later, Hope found Joey curled up on his bed, his baseball mitt and trading cards beside him, the ice pack pressed against his bruised eye. He was watching a college baseball game on ESPN, and although he seemed focused on the pitcher, she knew his mind was still on the scene downstairs. Feeling worse than ever about what had happened and the overly emotional way she had handled it, she sat down beside him and gently touched his shoulder.

“Honey, I’m sorry,” she said softly. She knew she had overreacted but he was so small and so physically vulnerable. The idea of the Bateman twins picking on him deliberately made her blood boil. That she had dealt with Chase, Rosemary, and Russell Morris that day had contributed to her losing her composure. And that wasn’t fair to Joey. “You really shouldn’t have to quit the team because those twins picked a fight with you.”

Joey reached for his inhaler. “I really like playing Little League, Mom.”

“I know.” And he liked having Chase around, too. Seeing how well the two of them got on was a surprise to her. Joey worshiped Chase; Chase liked the unchecked adoration. And she hadn’t expected that she would like having Chase there, too, at least for a brief while. Even though they had disagreed on how to handle Joey, he had exerted a calming, male influence that had been missing in their lives. Hope was acutely aware of how much Joey missed Edmond, especially at times like this. Having Chase there had closed that void with remarkable ease. She knew, for that reason alone, she would be as sorry as her son to see him go. But there were other aspects of Chase’s presence that she didn’t like nearly as much: the probing way he looked at her, his almost overwhelming maleness, and the sexuality and health he exuded. The bottom line was she was never more acutely aware of her womanliness than when she was around him. And those were feelings she didn’t want. Not now. Not when she was a widow, and Chase was Edmond’s son.

Joey’s brow furrowed. “If you yell at the coach, then he might want me to quit. I know the other kids would. And then the twins will get mad, too, and they’ll just be meaner than ever—” His shoulders slumped in despair.

“They shouldn’t be mean at all.” Hope massaged his shoulder gently.

“I know but they are.” Joey exhaled loudly, as if exasperated with her lack of understanding about something he considered obvious. “Ain’t nothing going to change that, Mom.”

“There isn’t anything that will change that.” Hope corrected his grammar absently.

Joey shrugged, and drew on his inhaler again. She watched with relief as he began to breathe a little easier. He lowered the ice pack. His eye didn’t look any better, but it didn’t look any worse, either. His scratches and scrapes were all tended and neatly bandaged. And with the help of the inhaler, his breathing was still satisfactory. All was okay for the moment, she reassured herself firmly. “Can I get you some dinner?” she urged gently. “No? How about a glass of Gatorade?”

He perked up a bit at her suggestion. “Do we have the orange kind?”

“I’m sure we do. Want me to bring some up?”

Joey nodded, probably grateful he didn’t have to go down and get it himself, as was usually the case. Hope didn’t allow Carmelita to wait on Joey hand and foot; she didn’t want him thinking he was “above all that,” just because his family had money. She didn’t want him turning into a little jerk; rather to have the same sensible, matter-of-fact upbringing Chase had had. “Is it okay if I eat later?” Joey asked.

Hope touched his uninjured brow soothingly. “Sure, you can even have a tray in your room if you like.” He had been a trooper, she realized. Edmond would have been as proud of him as Chase had been. She closed her eyes briefly, feeling unaccustomed tears well up. On days like this, Joey wasn’t the only one who missed Edmond. It was hard to raise a child alone. There were times, like now, when she needed a strong shoulder to lean on, too.

Oblivious to the rush of loneliness she felt, Joey put the ice pack back on his eye, wincing slightly as it touched his tender skin. Looking more exhausted than ever, he yawned and closed his eyes. “Okay. Just don’t call the coach,” he warned once again.

“I won’t,” Hope promised. She qualified her statement honestly, “This time. But if it happens again—”

“I know,” Joey said. He opened his eyes and finished her sentence for her in a resigned tone that let her know how unacceptable having only a mother could be. “You’ll have no choice.”



CHASE FOUND JOEY’S glasses in the grass. Although covered with dirty smudges, the lenses and frame were unbroken, but the safety strap that held his sports glasses on had been ripped and would need to be replaced. Obviously, he thought, it had been quite a scuffle, and unless he missed his guess, Joey had done his fair share of swinging and shoving. He probably felt he had something to prove—because of his size, because of his asthma.

Hope didn’t understand that, Chase realized. Not that this in itself was surprising. Hope was so soft and feminine, so maternal and kindhearted, she’d be loathe to fight with anyone.

Part of him respected and admired that. He didn’t like to fight unnecessarily, either, but this time Joey’d had no choice. He’d had to stand up for himself. Ever the pragmatist, Edmond would’ve been the first to understand that, and explain it to his gentle-souled wife. But his dad wasn’t here to handle this, Chase was. And he knew instinctively what Edmond would’ve wanted him to do right now—intervene on Joey’s behalf and make Hope stop smothering Joey.

Hope wouldn’t appreciate that. Hell, she probably wouldn’t even listen to anything he had to say. She’d only resent him all the more for butting in at home as well as at the store. If he were smart, he would just grab whatever funding he could for his project and take the nearest plane back to Costa Rica. But that would be self-serving. And Chase had tried very hard to never be the sort of self-centered person his mother was. That left only one option. He’d butt in and give advice where it wasn’t wanted. His father would have approved.

He owed his dad that. Why then was it proving so hard to do? he wondered uncomfortably. Was it because Hope was such a smart, independent, vitally interesting woman who he was privately willing to bet had never tapped in to her own latent sexuality? Or was it because he found himself beginning to fantasize about what it would be like to lead her into that unchartered but luscious territory?



HER TEMPLES THROBBING with the beginnings of a fierce tension headache, Hope headed downstairs. It was Carmelita’s evening off. The kitchen was blissfully quiet and dark and cool. Hope rummaged in a cabinet for a bottle of aspirin, shook out two and downed them with a glass of water, to little immediate relief.

After some moments, her neck was still stiff with tension, as were her shoulders and spine. Her dinner was in the refrigerator, ready to be microwaved. So was Joey’s, but, like him, after the upset of the day, she had little appetite. She fixed herself an icy glass of cola, hoping the mixture of caffeine and aspirin would speed relief to her aching head a little faster than plain water. She headed into the living room, and met Chase, coming in the front door, Joey’s glasses in his hand. Seeing his tall, lean body framed in the doorway gave her heart a little pause. Which was, all things considered, she told herself firmly, quite natural. Any woman in her place would have felt a little on edge, physically and emotionally, at the idea of being alone with him. With her, those feelings were intensified. Still, all she had to do was act normally, get through this, and he would go away.

She smiled gratefully, pretending an inner ease she couldn’t begin to feel as she accepted Joey’s glasses. She felt the brief warm brush of his calloused hand against her softer one. “You found them. Thanks.” He had finished buttoning his jeans and tucked in his shirt. His jeans fit snugly at the waist, defining the male contours of his body very well. Too well, she decided, shifting her peripheral vision away from the apex of his thighs.

“Glad to help.” His hazel eyes held hers, serious now. And again, she felt her heart skip a beat. “Hope, we need to talk.”

No, we don’t, she thought. A ripple of unease swept through her. She had been afraid he’d say that. “Chase—”

“It can’t wait, Hope.”

She knew that tone. Edmond had used it, too, and it wasn’t one to be denied. Obviously Chase had made up his mind. Deciding they might as well get it over with, she nodded briefly toward the living room. Though she had shed her shoes and red blazer earlier and taken down her hair so it fell across her shoulders in tousled, naturally waving strands, she was still dressed rather formally in a white merino wool polo sweater and white wool skirt. Her jewelry consisted of a single strand of pearls and pearl earrings. She was glad for the formality of her clothes. She would have felt far too intimate facing Chase in a warm-up suit or jeans. Just having him here in the house felt, at this precise moment, disloyal somehow. Wrong. Maybe because they were too close in age and far apart in outlook for her to be a proper stepmother to Chase. And maybe because he hadn’t ever looked at her as if she were his stepmother. He looked at her as an equal, a contemporary, one he didn’t particularly like or want to get to know better, but who he was tied to, in a familial sense, just the same. And even though she tried to ignore that, his deliberately remote, vaguely distrustful attitude had hurt her a lot over the years.

Feeling tenser than ever, she sat down on a chair and waited for him to take a seat on the Chesterfield sofa opposite her. “It’s about Joey,” he said as she took a long, cooling sip of her drink. “You’re coddling him unnecessarily in my opinion.”

Hope felt herself becoming defensive but was powerless to prevent it. She hated it when other people presumed to know what was best for her son. Putting her drink aside, she hung onto her soaring temper with effort and met his gaze. “Chase, I know you mean well,” she said tightly, warning him to back off, “but I don’t need your advice on this.” Nor do I want it, she thought.

Chase sighed. Knees spread apart, he leaned forward earnestly and clasped both his hands between his thighs. “In this instance, Hope, I think that you do need my advice.” He saw the flare of temper in her eyes and felt his own interest stir at the unchecked display of passion. Before she could even begin to cut him off, he interjected autocratically, “He is my half brother.”

Now, Hope though, that was rich. Restless and angry at this unexpected intervention, she got up to pace the room. Unable to prevent herself from saying what was on her mind, she pointed out quietly, “With the exception of the last two days, no one would ever have known.”

Dammit, she didn’t need Chase stepping into her life, into her home and workplace, making her continually uncomfortable and aware of herself. She didn’t need him awakening feelings and needs in her she’d forgotten she had. She liked her life simple. She liked being just a mother and a businesswoman. She didn’t want to yearn to be someone’s woman, too. “You’ve never acted like his brother.”

Chase whitened at her comment, but knowing it was the truth, said nothing to combat her remark.

But now that the subject had come up, she found she couldn’t let it go. There had just been too many years of silence on the subject and too much repression of feeling on both their parts. As a consequence, Joey had gotten caught in the crossfire of their withheld resentments. Chase’s disinterest in her son hadn’t mattered so much before. It had even seemed excusable because Chase was never around to get to know Joey, but now he did know his half brother. If Chase went back to ignoring Joey again, Joey would be terribly hurt. She couldn’t let that happen.

Aware he was watching her steadily and unable to bear his relentless scrutiny, she moved to the window. She stared out at the shady tree-lined driveway that led to the street. Not bothering to mask her hurt or resentment, she continued with her blunt assessment of his actions. “In all these years, you never sent him so much as a birthday card or a letter, Chase. Except for when Carmelita brought you over to help tonight, one dinner conversation is the most you’ve ever given Joey in his entire life. And you only did that last night because you were trying to figure out how to talk to me about the store. If you hadn’t needed to do that, you never would have joined us for a meal.” He never would have known what a delightful child Joey was, she thought. “You never would have come back to Houston at all.”

Hope noted with satisfaction that he didn’t try to deny anything she had said. “I admit I haven’t been the best sibling,” Chase began, visibly embarrassed. Restless now, too, he got up to pace the room.

“You haven’t been anything to him,” she corrected quietly, with no malice. That was the way they had all figured was best, while Edmond was alive, anyway. “That’s why I resent your advice now,” she continued calmly.

Chase knew she had a point. Nevertheless, cossetting was not what his father would have wanted for his second child. As difficult as it was, Chase had to do what his father would have expected him to do and make Hope see she was in the wrong here. She was as wrong as he had been in previously denying any and all ties to Joey and Hope. Like it or not, they were family, just like his mother was family. Maybe in the past this hadn’t felt like home to him. With his mother gone and Hope living here, he hadn’t had much desire to come home. And if he were honest with himself, he still didn’t. Given his choice, he would be back in the rain forest right now, instead of leaving everything to his partner to finish up. But he was here. He was involved. And they both had to deal with that fact as best they could.

Moving to stand beside her, he spoke urgently, “I’m trying to right that now—”

Hope shook her head, a defiant light in her dark blue eyes. “It’s too late. I know how you feel about me and about him, Chase.” Her voice choked and she shook her head in helpless misery. “How you’ve felt all along—” Her jaw set as her eyes filled with tears. “Why don’t you just go ahead and say it, Chase? You think I married your father for his money.”

Chase could take a lot of things, but not her playing the victim—not now. “Are you telling me that you didn’t?” Chase asked in cool disbelief, his temper rising. “That all this—” he gestured at the Louis XV chairs and the Aubusson rug “—played no part in it?”

Hope wanted to say that was so, but she knew in her heart it wasn’t true. Edmond’s power and wealth and this River Oaks fortress he had built had been a big part of the attraction when they had first met. She had needed to be taken in and protected at that point in her life. Because of the situation she had been running from, only someone like Edmond had possessed what it had taken to make her feel secure.

Realizing Chase was still waiting for an answer and that she couldn’t explain any of her actions without revealing the ugliness and pain in her past, she revealed only the part of the truth she felt she could tell him. “I loved your father, Chase. I loved him with all my heart and soul.”

Remembering the way she had broken down at Edmond’s funeral, Chase didn’t doubt that. Neither could he forget how they’d come together in the first place. “He was old enough to be your father, Hope.”

Hope’s slender shoulders stiffened defensively. “He was also gentle and good.”

Frowning, Chase studied her. “Gentle and good” were only a small part of what Hope needed in a man, whether she realized it or not. There was a hell of a lot more to a fulfilling relationship between a man and a woman than mutual kindness. They needed to be able to turn to one another physically as well and know they’d get a lot more than a lukewarm roll in the hay. “You’re telling me there was this great passion between you, that the two of you just couldn’t stay out of each other’s arms?” He didn’t know why, he just didn’t buy it. Not with any rich old man and pretty young chick in general and certainly not with Hope and his father. They just hadn’t given off those vibes.

Hope turned away, looking angry and upset and uncomfortable. “That,” she said flatly, offended by his presumption, “is none of your business, Chase.”

Chase supposed she was right about that, too. Nonetheless, her evasion made him all the more certain. Even though Hope clearly had loved his father and had made Edmond very happy, she hadn’t loved him in the beginning. Not the way a new bride was supposed to love her husband. And that he couldn’t condone. Marriage should be more than a business deal or convenient arrangement. Especially for nineteen-year-old girls, even pregnant ones.

Hope ran a hand through her hair, looking even more distressed. She took a drink of her cola. Her back to him, she took a lengthy swallow. “We shouldn’t be talking about this, Chase,” she continued in a voice that was thick with suppressed emotion. “You obviously resent me and—”

“Can you blame me?” Chase countered incredulously. She was acting like it was all his fault, and it wasn’t. “You broke up my parents’ marriage, Hope.” And not because she hadn’t been able to keep her hands off his father, either, but because she had clearly wanted all this and to inherit the store someday.

“You’re wrong about that. I never—and I repeat never—came between them!”

His own temper flaring dangerously, he stalked closer. If he got nothing else out of this, he wanted the truth. “Then tell me how it happened,” he continued gruffly. “How you started working for Barrister’s and six months later my parents’ marriage is in a shambles, my father’s insisting on a quicky divorce and an even quicker settlement so he can go off and marry you in some tacky Las Vegas chapel. Six months after that you present him with a son.”

Hope turned white, then red, then white again, but as Chase had expected, she said nothing to defend herself. Chase continued, “Yes, I’ve resented you all these years. Just as my mother has resented you. But for the sake of everyone, including Joey, I’m trying to do the decent thing now and get past it. Move forward. I know it’s what my father would have wanted.” And although Chase had let Edmond down in the past, many times, he wasn’t going to do so now.

And for his father’s sake he had to fight his deep attraction to Hope. God knew he didn’t want it, hadn’t planned for it, but there it was. He wanted his father’s wife in a distinctly man-woman way. And though he felt guilty as hell about it, his feelings weren’t going to magically go away. His only choice was to try to work through them, to get to know Hope and perhaps demystify her and diffuse his desire in the process.

He faced Hope earnestly, trying hard not to notice the tears sparkling in her eyes, or think about what an uphill battle this was bound to be. “The least you could do is help me out here.”

Her chin took on a stubborn tilt. “I don’t want your charity or your sense of obligation, not with the store or with Joey,” she specified flatly.

Chase sighed heavily. His motivations were as pure and chivalrous as he could make them right now, but she was within her rights to resent his presence. Just trying to talk to each other with anything resembling intimacy put them both on edge. If she had anyone else to turn to for help—but she didn’t. That meant he had to forge ahead and do his best to be “family” to her now. He hoped like hell that in the long run everything would turn out for the best.

“About Joey,” Chase continued doggedly, ignoring her stormy glare. “I know he has asthma. I know he is small for his age. But he’s scrappy and smart and he needs to lead the most normal life possible if you don’t want him to become a sissy or an invalid. That includes playing Little League and learning to fight his own battles. You can’t call the coach and complain every time he has a disagreement with another child.”

Her shoulders took on a stiff, unwieldy look. “I don’t.”

“But you want to,” he supposed confidently.

Fighting a guilty flush, she said, “Look, I want Joey to be a man every bit as much as you and Edmond did, but I draw the line at endangering his health.” She held up a hand, stop-sign fashion, staving off the refuting comment Chase was about to make. “Because I know how much this means to Joey, however, I’ve already decided I’ll let him continue to play ball, providing he doesn’t get beat up again. If he does, all promises are off.”

Chase was glad to see she was being reasonable. “If he gets slugged again,” Chase vowed, “I’ll go talk to the coach myself.” An occasional scuffle was to be expected. Habitual brawling was not.

Hope nodded acquiescently, looking grateful for his help now. Like Chase, she seemed to know there were times when Joey missed his father and needed a man. “Fair enough,” she conceded reluctantly, accepting his subtle offer of truce.

The silence strung out between them. Chase regarded her flushed, upturned face silently. Strangely and unexpectedly, he was reluctant to leave just yet. Looking at her in the dimming light, he was aware once again of how beautiful she was, how vulnerable. While he admired her boundless love for her son and her strength of purpose in managing the store, he did not like the fact that she always seemed to withhold much, much more than she ever said. He never knew what she was thinking. Only that he was excluded.

Because he had no reason to linger, Chase said a neutral goodbye and headed back to the guest house. Walking across the lawn, he thought about how much he liked women who dealt directly, who weren’t afraid to speak their minds. Hope’s secretiveness simultaneously disappointed him and made him all the more curious. Was she really the deceiving home wrecker Rosemary claimed? Or the loving angel his father had depicted? Her actions regarding her son seemed to point to the latter, but if that were the case and she indeed had nothing to hide about her relationship with Edmond, then why was she so afraid of divulging more about herself? Was she like his ex-fiancé, Lucy, just incapable of disclosing intimate details about herself? Or was it something else?

Dammit, he thought on a new burst of frustration and pique. Why wouldn’t Hope just tell him how, why, when and where she and his dad had gotten involved? Instead, she simply stated over and over that she had loved Edmond. Did she think him hard-hearted and judgmental? Or was there more going on?

Having been around Hope, Chase’s heart was telling him to ignore his mother’s strident accusations against her, to ignore the facts, and trust in Hope’s inherent goodness exactly the way his father had. He didn’t know whether that made him a fool, but one way or another he was going to find out the whole truth before he left again. It was the only way he’d ever have any peace.

If Hope wouldn’t voluntarily vindicate herself in his eyes, he’d just have to do it for her.



HOURS LATER, Hope stood at her bedroom window looking down at the pool. Chase was swimming laps as intensely as if he were training for the next Olympics. Watching his sturdy body slice through the glistening blue water, she thought she knew precisely how he felt. Their “little talk” about Joey and her marriage had her still strung up tighter than a bow. Had he not been down there swimming off his tension in the pool, she would’ve been. Going into the adjoining sitting room, she climbed purposefully onto her exercise bike and began to work out. And once again, her thoughts turned back to Chase.

They’d never meant to say even half of what they had. Considering how many years and at what cost they’d been steadfastly avoiding each other, it wasn’t surprising that they had finally spoken their minds.

Like almost everyone else in Houston, Chase considered her a gold digger because she’d married a wealthy man twice her age. Unfortunately, no matter how much it grated on her nerves, it was an erroneous assumption she was going to have to let stand. To tell him the truth about her and his father’s desperate personal situations at the time of their marriage was unthinkable. She had promised Edmond that no one would ever know the shame and humiliation he had suffered. And that was a promise she was determined to keep for herself and her son, as well as for her late husband. Joey had been devastated by his father’s death. He couldn’t be expected to weather a scandal as well.

She pedaled harder, her hands gripping the handlebars on the stationary bike. What bothered her most about all this discord was that, their long-standing differences aside, Chase was such a nice and honorable man. He was remarkably unspoiled for someone who’d grown up with as much wealth and power as he. He also knew his own mind, and hadn’t been afraid to go after a career in medical research even when he’d been continually pressured to do otherwise and take over the family business. She admired his strength of character and was certain had they met any other way that they would’ve been friends, and possibly much, much more.

After all, he was good with children and interested in them; he’d evidenced that with Joey. He cared about people, as did she, and tried not to hurt anyone voluntarily. But even more compelling than that was the attraction between them. She couldn’t be around him without feeling very much alive and very much a woman. And like it or not, she knew those feelings weren’t going to go away.




Chapter Four


“Well, it’s about time you got here!” Rosemary Barrister said the moment Hope stepped off the elevator the following morning.

Knowing Chase was right behind her—they’d driven to the office separately and met up in the parking garage—Hope tightened her hold on the briefcase in her hand and headed for her office. She did not want to argue with Rosemary in front of the staff. Rosemary looked as if she wanted very much to fight.

Rosemary followed Hope into her office, her stiletto heels clicking on the polished floor. Chase was close on their heels.

“Do you know what this woman has done now?” Rosemary demanded of her son. She pointed an accusatory finger at Hope.

Looking dismayed, Chase shut the door behind them.

Rosemary continued vehemently, “She turned down the chance of a lifetime for silly personal reasons!”

Hope put her briefcase down and moved behind her desk. Although it was barely nine, she could feel the beginnings of a monstrous tension headache. It made her just want to go home and crawl into bed and pull the covers over her head. “What are you talking about?” she asked Rosemary wearily, wishing Edmond’s ex had just stayed in Monte Carlo, where she belonged.

“Russell Morris.” Rosemary uttered the name in vindictive triumph, then turned to Chase. Hope’s heart stopped and the blood drained from her face. “He had a wonderful proposition for Barrister’s,” Rosemary continued spitefully, “and Hope wouldn’t even hear him out.”

No emotion readily apparent on his face, Chase looked at Hope for confirmation.

She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t very well tell Chase that she hated Russell without revealing why. She couldn’t do that without hurting herself even more. Her stomach lurching, she struggled for an excuse. “He didn’t have an appointment.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake! Russell Morris owns one of the largest textile companies in the entire South! He doesn’t need an appointment,” Rosemary said.

Hope worked hard to keep her panic hidden. He couldn’t hurt her anymore, she schooled herself firmly. Keeping an iron grip on her soaring emotions, she informed Rosemary coolly, “If Mr. Morris wants to meet with me, he does.”

Rosemary smiled triumphantly then twisted the knife. “Russell’s not having an appointment isn’t the issue and you know it,” she sneered. “You just didn’t want to meet with him because of your thwarted romantic past with the man.”

Feeling her legs begin to buckle, Hope put a steadying hand on her desk. Rosemary was wearing an abundance of perfume, and the cloying, heavy smell was making her feel even sicker. “What romantic past?” Hope asked in the most even voice she could manage. If Russell had so much as hinted to Rosemary what had happened, it would be disastrous. Cutting off her deeply troubled thoughts, she demanded, “What did he tell you?”

Rosemary smiled. “That your family used to tenant-farm cotton on Morris land when you were a teenager, and that you had a crush on him he didn’t return.” She lifted her narrow shoulders in an eloquent shrug. “Obviously you’re still holding his good sense against him!”

“Mother!” Chase began, his tone warning her to back off. He looked as if he had heard quite enough, and more importantly still, didn’t appreciate Rosemary’s attempts to assassinate Hope’s character. “What happened then,” Chase continued firmly, “has absolutely no bearing on our company problems now.”

“I think it does,” Rosemary countered smugly, whisking an imaginary piece of lint from the emerald-and-onyx broach she had pinned to the lapel of her Coco Chanel suit. “Hope’s refusal to even listen to Russell proves once and for all she is just not capable of running a complex operation like Barrister’s.”

Chase turned to Hope. He was wearing a stone-colored Armani jacket and pants over a long-sleeved raglan polo, in smoky gray. Loose and unstructured, the softly draped suit flattered the sinewy contours of his tall physique and gave him a breathtakingly understated look. His eyes weren’t calm but when he looked at her, they rarely were, and the complex welter of emotions in them was impossible to decipher. She knew he was acutely interested in her and all that was going on. Maybe he was even slightly protective of her with Rosemary on the scene, but that was all she knew. It was all she could allow herself to know, Hope told herself as her stomach muscles tightened.

“Were you unfair to him?” Chase asked.

Considering what Russell Morris had done to her and the way he had ruined her life? “I don’t think so, no,” Hope answered stiffly.

Chase slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers. His posture was both controlled and lazy as he leaned insouciantly against the other side of her desk. She suppressed the urge to swallow nervously as his hazel eyes fastened on hers and held.

“What did he want?” His voice was casual. Too casual.

Hope really wasn’t sure. She wasn’t naive enough to think Russell Morris would have appeared in her life again without an ulterior motive. Russell Morris and his family did everything with an ulterior motive. She’d found that out the hard way. But not about to reveal that to Chase and risk further questioning, she moved her shoulders and said evasively, “I don’t know. We never got that far.”

Chase lifted his brow, making Hope feel all the more embarrassed and strangely inept. It was not as if by letting the store down, she had let Chase down, too. And that was silly because she knew he had never cared much about Barrister’s. If he had he would’ve taken the job as company president, as his father had wanted. Nevertheless, it was humiliating to stand there and let Rosemary put her down in front of Chase. More than anyone, she wanted him to respect her, as a person and a businesswoman. It was clear from the quizzical look on his face he was no longer sure he could do so.

“You see?” Rosemary cut in, taking advantage of her son’s shock to press her point. “She wouldn’t even listen to him. If Russell hadn’t had the moxie to come to me with his proposition, Barrister’s might have lost out entirely on what could prove to be a very lucrative arrangement for both our firms.”

“Which is?” Chase prodded dryly. Like Hope, he seemed to sense that there had to be a catch somewhere.

“He wants to manufacture an exclusive line of linens and draperies for the Barrister’s label. The profit margin would be very high, for both of us.” Rosemary’s eyes sparkled greedily. “All we’d have to do is put up the capital—”




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