Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | The Mummy Proposal

The Mummy Proposal
Cathy Gillen Thacker


“I Hear You Work Miracles. ” Being a single father is the toughest job Nate’s ever taken on. That’s why the self-made millionaire hired design expert Brooke to turn his bachelor estate into a real home… and provide him with some much-needed parenting advice. As a widow with a son of her own, Brooke’s heart goes out to the sexy CEO who’s trying to be the best dad he can.But living with Nate doesn’t make them an instant family. He’s still her boss and despite pressure from their matchmaking kids Brooke’s determined not to fall for Nate. It’s a shame her heart’s got other plans…










“I know what you’re thinking.”

“And what is that?” Nate teased, glad for the chance to have a few minutes alone with her.

Brooke turned to face him. Leaning against the fridge, she met his gaze and answered dryly, “The same thing I think when I see Cole looking at you like you’re some kind of super hero. It’s not enough reason for us to get together.”

Nate set aside what he was doing and slowly crossed the distance between them. He stopped in front of her, and braced a forearm on either side of her slender shoulders.

He hadn’t intended to make another move on her, here and now, but then he hadn’t intended a lot of things when it came to Brooke Mitchell.

“Then how about this?” Nate offered softly. He watched her marine blue eyes widen as he leaned in to kiss her.


Dear Reader,

What makes a good father? To answer that question, I have only to look as far as my own dad. He was always there for me. Or to put it in today’s slang, “He showed up.” It didn’t matter whether I had a fall from my bike or a piano recital or I was giving birth to my first child. He was always there to bandage a knee, cheer me on, or share in the most incredible joy I’ve ever felt in my life. He showed up.

Nate Hutchinson wants to show up, too, but he doesn’t have a child of his own until an old friend leaves a posthumous request that he bring up her son.

This is no baby. Landry is a fourteen-year-old boy with a mind of his own. Landry doesn’t understand why Nate would want him and he’s not much interested in sticking around to find out why.

Enter Brooke Mitchell. She loves and protects her own son, Cole, fiercely—even when scandal threatens.

With Brooke and Cole there to help, Nate and Landry begin to see what they too can have, if they dare to become a family. The question is, can they do it on their own? Do they even want to try, given the fact that the two boys have become like brothers? As for Nate and Brooke—something wonderful is happening there, too …

Happy reading!

Cathy Gillen Thacker




About the Author


CATHY GILLEN THACKER is married and a mother of three. She and her husband spent eighteen years in Texas and now reside in North Carolina. Her mysteries, romantic comedies and heartwarming family stories have made numerous appearances on bestseller lists, but her best reward, she says, is knowing one of her books made someone’s day a little brighter. A popular author for many years, she loves telling passionate stories with happy endings, and thinks nothing beats a good romance and a hot cup of tea! You can visit Cathy’s website at www.cathygillenthacker.com for more information on her upcoming and previously published books, recipes and a list of her favorite things.




The Mummy Proposal

Cathy Gillen Thacker













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




Chapter One


“I hear you work miracles,” Nate Hutchinson drawled.

“Sometimes I do.” Brooke Mitchell smiled and took the sexy financier’s hand in hers, shaking it briefly as she stepped into his downtown Fort Worth office.

“Good.” Nate looked her straight in the eye. “Because I’m in need of a home makeover—fast. The son of an old friend is coming to live with me.”

Still tingling from the feel of his warm, hard palm clasped in hers, Brooke stepped back. “Temporarily or permanently?”

“If all goes according to plan, I’ll adopt Landry by summer’s end.”

Brooke had heard the founder of Nate Hutchinson Financial Services was eligible, wealthy and generous to a fault. She hadn’t known he was in the market for a family, but she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. Nate’s four best buddies were all married, with kids. It made sense that as he approached his late thirties, the dark-haired, six-foot-five Texan would want to enrich his personal life, too. Brooke had just figured that a man as successful and handsome as Nate would want to do so the old-fashioned way. By finding a woman to settle down with and then have babies. Not that this was any of her business, she reminded herself sternly.

She turned her glance away from Nate’s broad shoulders and powerful chest. “So how old is this child?” she asked in a crisp, formal tone, trying not to think how the marine-blue of Nate Hutchinson’s dress shirt and striped tie deepened the hue of his eyes.

“Fourteen.”

Brooke sank into a chair and pulled out a notepad and pen. She crossed her legs at the knee and continued. “What’s he like?”

“I don’t know.” Nate circled around to sit behind his massive antique mahogany desk. He relaxed against the smooth leather of the chair. “I’ve never met him.”

“You’ve invited this kid to live with you permanently and you’ve never laid eyes on him?” Brooke blurted before she could stop herself.

Nate flashed a charming half smile, the kind car salesmen gave when they were talking about gas mileage that was less than ideal. “It’s complicated,” he murmured. “But I’m sure it’s going to work out fine.”

Obviously, Brooke thought, calling on her own experience as a parent, Nate Hutchinson knew as little about teenage boys as he did about decorating. But that wasn’t her problem. Finding a way to do the assignment and collect her commission without getting emotionally involved was. It seemed there hadn’t been a child born yet in this world who did not possess the capability to steal her heart … and that went double for a kid in any kind of trouble.

The phone on his desk buzzed. Nate picked up. “Yes. Send him in. I want Ms. Mitchell to meet him.” He rose and headed for the door.

Moments later, a tall, gangly teen sauntered through the portal of the executive suite. He wore jeans and a faded T-shirt he had clearly outgrown, and had peach fuzz on his face and shaggy dishwater-blond hair. His only nod toward propriety was the tender deference with which he treated the elderly white-haired woman beside him. She walked with a cane and looked so frail even a mild Texas breeze might blow her over.

Brooke could feel Nate’s shock, even as he resumed the perennial smooth of someone who made his living charming people into investing with his firm. “Mrs. Walker. It’s been a long time.” He moved to help her into a chair. The youth assisted from the other side.

The elderly woman gratefully accepted their help. “Yes. It has.”

“And this must be your great-grandson.” Nate moved toward the fourteen-year-old boy, genially extending his palm. “Hello, Landry.”

Hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, Landry looked around the luxuriously appointed office, ignoring Nate entirely. Finally, with a disgruntled sigh, he cast a sideways glance at his great-grandmother. “Obviously, this isn’t going to work, Gran. So … can we go now?”

“Landry, dear, I explained …” Mrs. Walker replied in a feeble tone.

Landry scowled at Nate. “I don’t care how much money this dude has!” he blurted. “There’s no way he’s going to adopt me and be my dad!”

NATE COULDN’T BLAME the teen for being upset with the quick turn of events. He hadn’t seen this coming, either. Had it been anyone but Jessalyn Walker asking him to do this, he would have been on the phone to his lawyer, seeking another solution. But it was Jessalyn who was here, orphan in tow. And it had been her granddaughter Seraphina making the request, through a letter left for Nate. A letter Jessalyn had held on to until yesterday, while she, too, tried to do what was best for all concerned.

Nate dropped his hand. “I’m very sorry about your loss,” he said quietly.

“My mom died a year and a half ago.” The teen glared at him, still hovering protectively next to his great-grandmother. “If you were really my mom’s friend, where were you then? You should have been there.”

What could Nate say to that? The kid was right. “Had I known your mother was ill, I would have been,” he assured him.

Landry looked at him contemptuously.

“He’s here now, Landry, ready and willing to help us—just the way your mom wanted, when the day came that I could no longer care for you.” Jessalyn Walker reached out and put a comforting hand on her great-grandson’s forearm. “That’s all that counts.”

Landry’s chin quivered. “You don’t have to take care of me,” he declared. “I’ll take care of you.”

“That’s not the way it’s supposed to be,” Jessalyn reminded him patiently, giving his arm another beseeching pat.

Landry broke away abruptly. “I don’t mind. I want to do it!”

“Landry—” Jessalyn pleaded.

“If you don’t want me around, fine! Go ahead and move into that retirement center!” Landry huffed. “But I’m not signing on for this! And none of you can make me!” He spun around and strode toward the door.

Nate took off after him, catching up with Landry before he reached the elevators. Nate had no experience with wayward teenagers, but he was pretty certain he knew what was called for here. “If you care about your great-grandmother as much as you say you do, you’ll come back to that office and work things out like a man instead of running away.”

Landry snorted. “Whatever.” He did an about-face and marched back to the office, spine straight, attitude intact. Nate followed him.

Brooke, who had been consoling Jessalyn, gently squeezed the woman’s frail hand and met Nate’s gaze.

“I know you are furious at my failing health. So am I,” Jessalyn Walker told her great-grandson wearily. “But my doctor is right. I need more care than I can get at home. And you can’t live with me in the assisted-living home I’m moving into tomorrow. So it’s either go with Nate today, and give that a try as I’ve asked, or enter the foster care system.”

Landry’s scowl deepened.

To Nate’s surprise, Brooke stepped into the fray. She fixed Landry with a kind look. “I know this is none of my business, but I would advise you to go with Nate. I was in foster care as a kid. I got moved around a lot. It was … not fun.”

This, Nate had not known.

Landry’s eyes narrowed. “Is that the truth?”

Brooke nodded sadly. “I lost both my mom and dad when I was fourteen, but unlike you, had no relatives or old family friends to take me in.” She paused, regarding the teenager with a gaze that was as matter-of-fact as it was softly maternal. “Not having any family at all to care about you is a tough way to grow up. I really wouldn’t recommend it, honey.”

Landry’s shoulders sagged. “Can I live with you then?” he asked Brooke.

She seemed as taken aback by the request as everyone else in the room, and exhaled ruefully. “I’m sorry, Landry, but that is not an option.”

He crossed his arms in front of him. “Then I’ll take foster care,” he insisted.

Seeing a situation he had hoped would go smoothly rapidly deteriorate into emotional chaos was not part of Nate’s plan. Determined to regain control of the moment, he caught Brooke’s attention and gestured toward the door. “If you two will excuse us, I’d like to talk to Ms. Mitchell alone a moment.”

Brooke didn’t appear to want to go with him, but complied nevertheless. Her posture regal, she walked down the hall to the boardroom. Nate held the door, then followed her inside.

The room was elegantly appointed, with a long table and comfortable leather chairs backed by a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the Trinity River and downtown Fort Worth. The spectacular view was nothing compared to the tall, slender woman standing in front of it.

Nate paused, taking in the glossy fall of walnut-brown hair brushing her shoulders. A sleeveless tunic showcased her shapely arms. Matching silk trousers fluidly draped her legs. But it was the inherent kindness and empathy in her golden-brown eyes he found the most captivating. It was no wonder Landry had gravitated to her. Brooke Mitchell was an intriguing mix of savvy business entrepreneur and empathetic woman. She seemed like someone who would know what to do in any situation. And right now, Nate and Landry both needed a woman like that in their lives.

She glanced out at the skyline, then turned back to him. “I understand you have a big problem,” she told him with all sincerity. “I feel for Landry. But there my involvement ends.”

Nate remained determined. “I understand you’re a single mother with a thirteen-year-old boy.”

A delicate blush silhouetted her high, sculpted cheeks. “How did you …?”

“Alexis McCabe mentioned it when she gave me your name and suggested you were the ideal person to help me make the mansion I just purchased a home.” Nate walked over to stand next to her. He glanced out at the view, too, then back at her. “I need help getting Landry situated.”

Brooke inclined her head slightly to one side. “As a single parent, you have to get used to handling these challenges by yourself.”

Again Nate followed the spill of glossy hair brushing her shoulders, and couldn’t help but notice her fair skin and toned body. She was one sexy lady, in the woman-in-the-office-across-the-hall kind of way. And due to the circumstances he and Landry were facing, totally off-limits. Nate needed to keep his thoughts trained on the issue at hand.

“I will handle these problems myself,” he promised her, “as soon as Landry adjusts to the idea of becoming my son.”

She remained silent, but gave him a look that said Lotsa luck with that!

Undeterred, he braced a shoulder against the glass. “In the meantime, you have a son close to Landry’s age, and I have a two-bedroom cottage on the property. You and your son could stay there while the makeover of the main house takes place, under your direction. The boys could swim in the pool, play on the sport court, and you could help bring me up to speed on this whole parenting thing.”

Brooke shot him a censuring glance. “You presume a lot.”

Nate countered with what experience told him would be the winning hand. “I’m also willing to pay a lot,” he said bluntly. “Double your usual rate for the next two weeks, if you’ll help me out here.”

Silence stretched between them, as palpable as the sexual sparks he’d felt when he had first taken her hand. Brooke’s services were expensive to begin with. They were talking a lot of money here. “You’re serious,” she said.

“As a heartbeat.”

Brooke sighed and then muttered something under her breath he couldn’t quite catch. “All right,” she said finally, lifting a nicely manicured hand to her hair. “I’ll do it on several conditions.”

Nate stepped closer, inhaling the soft lilac fragrance of her perfume. “And those are?”

Her fine brow arched. “When my work at your place is done, I’m done with the whole situation.”

Nate lifted his hands in surrender. “No problem.”

Her pert chin angled higher. “Two, if the boys don’t get along, they won’t be forced to hang out together.”

Nate agreed readily. “All right.”

“Three. My son, Cole, is already enrolled for the summer in a prestigious academic day camp that focuses on computer skills, and he’s going to go.”

Nate had been involved in organized activities—mostly academic—every summer when he was a kid, too, and always enjoyed them. “That might be good for Landry, as well.”

“If you can get him in, it probably would be great for him,” Brooke agreed. “And four, I make no guarantee how this will all work out. Except to say that you will be pleased with how your home looks when the redecoration is complete.”

Nate admired her confidence. Curious, and more than a little intrigued by the beautiful and accomplished woman in front of him, he asked, “How do you know that?” She hadn’t even seen the property or heard what he had in mind.

Brooke’s radiant smile lit up the room. “When it comes to my work, I never give up until the customer is completely satisfied.”




Chapter Two


“Not exactly child-friendly, is it?” Brooke observed, walking through Nate Hutchinson’s multimillion-dollar residence an hour later.

The ten-thousand-square-foot abode had a postmodern edge to it. Everything was black or white. Glass tables and lamps abounded, as did expensive statues and paintings. The overall impression she got was sleek, cold and sterile.

Nate shrugged. “It’s an investment. I bought it as is. It can all be changed.”

He glanced over at Landry and his great-grandmother. The teen was glumly inspecting the marble-floored foyer and sweeping staircase. Jessalyn was sitting wearily in the formal library, off to the left. Cane in hand, she kept a worried gaze on the boy. Probably wondering, Brooke thought, if Landry was going to be able to accept his new living arrangements.

“Obviously,” Nate continued, oblivious to the concerned nature of Brooke’s thoughts, “we’ll set a budget that is appropriate for the scope and scale of this house.” He paused, close enough now that she took in the fragrance of his soap, cologne and heady male essence. “I’m going to need it done as quickly as possible. Two weeks, at the outside.”

Brooke shook off the tantalizing fragrance of leather and spice. “That’s a tall order.”

He eyed her with lazy assurance. “I’m not worried. You have a reputation for providing your clients with the home environments they always dreamed of having, in record time.”

Brooke could not contest that. She was good at what she did. She worked hard to keep at a minimum the chaos and disarray that went along with redecorating. Usually, however, the homes were not nearly this large. A feeling of nervousness sifted through her. “It’s going to require a lot of time on your part, as well,” she warned.

He regarded her with maddening nonchalance. “I don’t move furniture.”

Famous last words, Brooke thought. No one got through a major upheaval of their personal belongings without eventually having to heft or slightly reposition something. It didn’t matter how many professionals were hired. At the end of the day, there was always something that wasn’t quite right. Something that begged the owner to reach out and touch and, in the process, claim it as his or her own. But figuring Nate wouldn’t understand the need to put his own signature on the place if it were truly to become his home, she let it go for now.

Giving him the smile she reserved for her most difficult and demanding clients, she tried again. “I meant you’re going to have to sit down with me—pronto—and talk about what kind of style you envision having here.”

Brooke turned as she saw Landry heading up the staircase.

Nate lifted a staying hand. “It’s okay. He’s going to have to explore the place sometime.”

Meanwhile, Brooke noted, the seventy-nine-year-old Jessalyn appeared to be drifting off to sleep …. “So when can we get together to do this?” she asked.

“How about tonight?”

If only that were possible, she mused, as anxious to get a head start on this task as he. “I have to pick up my son at summer camp.”

“Bring him, too. Say around seven? We’ll all have dinner. If you want, you could even move your things into the caretaker’s house at that time.”

Brooke had heard Nate moved fast. His indefatigable drive had turned his solo financial advising practice into a firm with six thousand top-notch certified financial planners, and a national reputation for excellence.

She gazed up at him. “I know you want to get this done,” she began.

“It’s important for Landry that this feel like a home instead of a museum,” Nate said.

Brooke couldn’t disagree with that. “But there’s such a thing as moving too fast. Decorating decisions made in haste are often repented in leisure.” And she had her own problems to triumph over, starting with her promise to reconfigure her priorities and bring balance back into her life.

Nate brushed off her concern with a shrug. “I’m counting on you to help me avoid that.”

The doorbell rang before she could answer him.

Nate moved to get it.

A stunning ebony-haired woman in a Marc Jacobs suit strode in, cell phone and briefcase in hand. She was in her mid-thirties, of Asian-American descent.

“Brooke Mitchell, my attorney, Mai Tanous. Mai, this is Brooke Mitchell.”

Mai nodded briefly in acknowledgment, then leaned toward Nate. “We need to talk.”

NATE HAD AN IDEA of what Mai was going to say. He also knew she would be much more circumspect if they weren’t alone. He motioned for Brooke to stay put, and regarded Mai steadily. “I presume you brought the papers?” he asked in a voice that tolerated no argument.

Mai cast an uncertain look at Brooke, as unwilling to talk business with an audience as Nate had presumed she would be. “Yes,” she said politely. “I did. But—”

He held up a hand, cutting off her protest. “Then let’s sign them so Jessalyn can go home. She’s exhausted.”

Exhaling in frustration, Mai frowned. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

He nodded. For a moment Mai seemed torn between doing her job and being his friend. Finally, she pivoted and headed for the library, where Jessalyn was seated. As Brooke and Nate entered the room, the elderly woman roused.

Mai extended a hand and introduced herself. “Mrs. Walker, are you sure you don’t want to have your own attorney present?”

Jessalyn waved off the suggestion. “I trust this man every bit as much as my late granddaughter did. If Nate says he’ll do right by Landry, then he will.”

“I would still feel better if we slowed down a bit,” Mai said. “Perhaps began the process with a simple visit.”

Nate gave his attorney a quelling glance. “I told you it wasn’t necessary,” he stated firmly. “Now, if you have the Power of Appointment papers …”

Her posture stiff, her expression deferential, Mai opened up her briefcase, extracted the documents. “Basically, this agreement states that Landry will live with Nate now. It gives Nate the power to take him to the doctor, and to school or camp while he is in Nate’s care. In the eyes of the law, however, Landry’s great-grandmother, Jessalyn Walker, will remain his legal custodian until the court transfers custodianship to Nate.”

“Why can’t we just make Nate Landry’s legal custodian now?” Jessalyn asked impatiently.

Mai regarded the elderly woman gently. “The court will need to be certain this arrangement is in the best interest of your great-grandson.”

Nate noticed Brooke visibly react to that admission.

“I don’t see why, since Nate has agreed to be the father that Landry needs.” Jessalyn appeared upset.

Mai knelt in front of her and took her hand. Looking her in the eye, then explained, “The authorities are still going to want home studies to be done by social workers, and reports given to the court, recommending placement. But that won’t happen until the petition for custodianship is filed with the court. And in fact—” the attorney gave her hand a final pat and stood, addressing all of them once again “—I would suggest that until Landry settles in a little bit and feels like this is something he wants, too, that we hold off on taking him before a judge. And instead just let him live here for a few weeks and get used to things, before we actually petition the court to begin the process to make it permanent.”

Although Brooke had said nothing during this whole exchange, Nate noticed that she seemed to agree with Mai on that. Probably because she was a mother herself and understood how unhappy Landry was right now ….

No one there seemed to have confidence that Nate could make the teen any happier. When it came right down to it, he wasn’t certain, either. His own familial background left a lot to be desired, in that regard.

Jessalyn studied Mai with faded blue eyes. “You’re worried what will happen if Landry decides he doesn’t want to live here with Nate, aren’t you?”

As direct as always, the lawyer nodded, her expression grim.

“Why don’t I check on Landry?” Brooke interjected helpfully.

Appreciating her discretion and sensitivity, Nate shot her a grateful glance. “Good idea.”

She slipped out. The mood in the room was somber as Jessalyn and Nate read and signed the legal documents Mai had drawn up. Finally, it was done. Everyone had a copy of the Power of Appointment to take with them.

“Obviously,” Nate told Jessalyn, “you are welcome to call or come by at any time to see Landry. And I’ll make certain he visits you at the retirement village, too.”

“Thank you,” Jessalyn said, her eyes moist. “And thank you for coming to our aid. Especially under the circumstances.” Her words were rife with meaning only Nate understood.

Reminded of the situation that had prompted him to cut ties with Seraphina and her grandmother, Nate bent and clasped the elderly woman’s frail shoulders in a brief hug. “I wish you’d come to me sooner,” he murmured in her ear.

Jessalyn looked at him. “You know why I didn’t,” she retorted, just as quietly.

Nate did. He exhaled deeply. Before he could reply, Brooke appeared in the doorway.

“A small problem,” she said with a rueful twist of her lips. “I can’t find Landry anywhere.”

MAI STAYED WITH a visibly upset Jessalyn Walker. Brooke and Nate split up. She covered the east half of the house, while he covered the west. Both were diligent in their search. Neither found a trace of the wayward teen.

Mute with worry, they headed out to the lagoon-style swimming pool, complete with elaborate greenery. He wasn’t there. Ditto the sport court. The detached six-car garage. The only thing left was the caretaker’s cottage.

“Naturally,” Nate murmured, as they approached the porch of the ranch-style domicile and spied Landry settled in front of the television inside. “He’s in the last place we looked.”

“And also,” Brooke noted thoughtfully, “the most eclectic.”

Unlike the house, Brooke observed, which had been decorated with style and cutting-edge decor in mind, the cottage was a ramshackle collection of mismatched furniture and odds and ends. It was, in short, a designer’s nightmare—and a disgruntled teen’s hideout.

Surprised and a little disappointed to suddenly find herself in the same situation she had endured in her youth, she pivoted toward Nate. He stepped nearer at the same time. Without warning, she was suddenly so close to him she couldn’t avoid the brisk masculine fragrance of his cologne, or the effect it had on her senses. Turning to her cool professionalism, she stepped back slightly. “This is where you wanted me and my son to stay?”

Nate’s brow furrowed. Obviously, he saw no problem with the arrangement, but was astute enough to realize she was momentarily disconcerted. Not just at the obvious discrepancy between this and the main house, but what the decision obviously said about his estimation of her. This was no cozy abode, or the sort of lodging suitable for a respected colleague. Rather, it was a place for a servant one didn’t care much about. Worse, there was a thick layer of dust on every surface, which would play havoc with her son’s asthma.

“It doesn’t look like it’s been cleaned in forever,” Brooke stated grimly. And Nate had wanted her and her son to stay there that night!

“I apologize for that,” Nate murmured, clapping a hand on the back of his neck. “I was unaware.”

Typical man. Brooke sighed in displeasure. This job hadn’t even started yet and it was already a mess in practically every respect. She had half a mind to forgo the lucrative contract and walk out.

“I suggested it because it was separate from the house, and therefore private. I hadn’t really thought about the condition of the place or the decor. I haven’t used it in the two months I’ve lived here. Nor has anyone else, since I don’t employ any live-in help.” Nate took another look through the window. “But I see why you’re less than tempted to accept. I guess for someone like you, who pays attention to the aesthetics, these accommodations could be …”

“Insulting?”

“It’s not what I meant when I issued the invitation.” He ran a hand through his thick black hair and looked seriously chagrined.

Brooke let him off the hook with a raised eyebrow.

Clearly not one to let a mistake of any kind go, Nate persisted with narrowed eyes, “Obviously, we’ll get this place scrubbed from top to bottom, and fixed up, too. And we’ll take care of that before we even start on the main house, if you do agree to move in here with your son.”

Brooke had not come this far in her career to get the reputation of a diva. And if the story got out that Nate had been forced to redo her quarters before starting on his own, her competitors would have a field day. She stopped him with a glance. “It’s not a problem. I’ve lived in worse. Foster care, remember?”

“Oh.”

“I can make anyplace a home.” In fact, she told herself sternly, she welcomed the challenge.

At the moment there were far more pressing problems to deal with.

Brooke cast another look at the fourteen-year-old slumped on the hideously out-of-date orange-green-and-brown-plaid sofa.

“Let’s go inside and talk to Landry,” she murmured, touching Nate’s arm.

The boy was the picture of defiance as the two adults entered the cottage.

“You can’t run off like that,” Nate chided, switching off the television.

Landry leaped up, hands balled at his sides. “Who are you to tell me what to do?” he demanded. “And don’t go saying you’re going to be my dad, because you’re not!”

Nate explained about the legal papers that had been signed.

Landry fell silent. “So I’ll live here,” he grudgingly agreed at last. “It doesn’t change the fact that you’re just some guy doing a favor for my great-grandma.” He stormed out of the cottage and back toward the house, leaving Brooke and Nate no choice but to follow.

In Landry’s place, Brooke knew she would have been wary, too. Seeking a reason that would alleviate the orphaned child’s distrust, she inquired matter-of-factly, “Why haven’t you been part of Landry’s life until now?”

For a moment, Nate didn’t answer. Finally, he explained, “I didn’t know he existed until twenty-four hours ago, when Jessalyn Walker called me. She told me Seraphina had died of cancer a year and a half ago, and that Landry had been living with her ever since. Jessalyn said at first it was all right. He was clearly grieving the loss, as was she, but they were a team. Then, in the last month or so, as her health began to fail and she had to sell her home and arrange to move into the assisted-living facility, he became really angry about the hand fate had dealt him.”

Understandably so, Brooke mused.

“He did his best to care for her, apparently, and convince her she didn’t need nurses looking after her, when she had him,” Nate related. “But she knew Landry deserved a better life. So she took a letter that Seraphina had left behind, for a worst-case scenario, and had it messengered to me.”

And the combination of phone call and letter had worked to get Nate involved.

“What did the letter say?” Brooke asked, telling herself that her curiosity had nothing to do with her interest in Nate the man and his previous relationship with Landry’s mother, and everything to do with trying to create a home decor that worked for both Nate and his charge. There might be clues in that note about what his mother thought her son would one day want and need ….

Nate reached into the pocket of his suit jacket. Wordlessly, he handed over a piece of cream-colored stationery. Brooke opened it and read:

Dear Nate,

Landry needs a man he can look up to in his life. I know I have no right to ask you this after the way our engagement ended, but please put the past aside and be the family to my son that my grandmother Jessalyn and I can no longer be. And if you can’t do that, I trust you to find someone who can give Landry all the care and attention he is going to need in the years ahead.

I never stopped loving you. Seraphina.

Finished, Brooke handed the letter back. It was obvious Seraphina had really looked up to Nate, despite whatever had transpired to break them up. “Why didn’t she ask you to do this before she died?”

Nate’s tone grew turbulent. “Probably because she didn’t know how I’d feel or what I’d do. When she knew me, I was all-career, all the time.”

“And yet she trusted you either to be the father Landry needed or to find one for him.”

“What can I say?” The emotion in Nate’s eyes dissipated and he flashed a charming grin. “I’m a trustworthy guy.”

What wasn’t he telling her? Brooke wondered. Did it have anything to do with the reason Nate and Seraphina had stopped communicating and made little or no effort to remain friends after their breakup?

Brooke studied Nate, the mother in her coming to the fore. “Are you sure you want to take this on?” Landry had already weathered a lot of loss. Nate had no experience with children, and gallantry, no matter how well intentioned, took a potential parent only so far.

He nodded, his blue eyes serious. “In the end Seraphina and I may not have been right for each other, but I loved her, too, and always will. And I know I can—and will—love her son.”

“YOU’VE GOT TO BE kidding me!” Cole said, when Brooke picked him up at day camp several hours later. He regarded her with all the disdain a thirteen-year-old boy could muster. “What about the promise you made to me about not taking on any more ridiculously demanding clients and ‘restoring balance’ to our life?”

Brooke had meant it at the time. She still did. “I had to take this job,” she explained.

She eased away from the carpool line and pulled out onto the street. Her minivan picked up speed as she drove. “Because the circumstances were extenuating—and Alexis McCabe asked me to do it, as a special favor. And I owe her … you know that.” Brooke let out a beleaguered sigh.

“Not only was she one of my very first customers, after your dad died. She helped me get my business off the ground, with tons of referrals.” To the point Brooke was now doing only big projects, with unlimited budgets.

“I liked it better when your clients weren’t so rich they felt they could ask you to do anything and you’d have to say yes.”

So had Brooke, in the sense that she hadn’t felt so pressured. That the more prestigious jobs brought better pay … well, she was happy with that. “I know. And if my last client hadn’t canceled the job abruptly—”

“When you refused to fly to Paris to look at fabric.”

Brooke nodded. That client had been outrageously demanding—and unreasonable. “I guess it all worked out for the best. If I’d abided by his wishes, I wouldn’t have unexpectedly had two weeks open … or been able to take this job with Nate Hutchinson.” She couldn’t help smiling. Now I’m going to get paid double my usual rate for two weeks!

“This Hutchinson guy … he’s an important dude?”

Brooke glanced at her son. As usual, Cole looked relaxed and content after a day spent alternately learning cool stuff and playing in the summer sunshine. He was dressed in a yellow camp T-shirt with a computer emblazoned on the front, khaki cargo shorts and sneakers. That day’s athletic activity had been swimming, so his blond hair was wet and smelled of chlorine.

“One of the most high-profile businessmen in Fort Worth,” she confirmed.

“And he knows a lot about money.”

“Apparently so, judging by the success of his financial services company.”

Cole sighed. “Yeah, well … I still don’t want to live in some guy’s house!”

Nor did Brooke, to tell the truth. But every time she remembered the look on Landry’s face, she thought about her own experiences in foster care—what it had felt like to get shunted around to places you didn’t know, with people you’d never met—and her heart went out to him. She knew she could help him adjust. And if doing so eventually repaid the universe’s kindness to her …

“It’s actually a caretaker’s cottage, and it’s a rush job. The only way I’ll get it done in the time allotted is if I’m at the Hutchinson estate day and night for the next two weeks. And if I’m there till all hours and you’re at our place …”

Cole grabbed the half-finished sport drink from his backpack and unscrewed the top. His golden-brown eyes were wiser than his years. “We’ll never see each other.”

“Right.” Brooke turned onto the entrance ramp that would take them to the freeway. “I know you’re at camp all day. But I still like hanging around with you during the evenings, even when I have to spend part of that time working.”

Cole ripped open the wrapper on an energy bar. “If I’m a good sport about this, you’re going to owe me.”

Brooke had no problem putting the carrot ahead of the stick. Incentives were a great way to motivate people into going the extra mile. She smiled at her boyishly handsome son. “What would you like?”

Cole beamed and bartered resolutely, “A whole day at the Six Flags amusement park in Arlington! We’re there when the park opens and we stay until we see the fireworks. Deal?”

Brooke consented with a nod, glad to have come to some accord. “Deal. But it’s going to have to wait until I finish the job,” she cautioned.

He wiped the oatmeal crumbs off his mouth with the back of his hand. “Or sooner, if you get a day off before then.”

Brooke wouldn’t count on that. She had just met the man, but … “Mr. Hutchinson can be quite the slave driver.”

“You can sweet-talk him into letting you have a day off next weekend. You can sweet-talk anybody, Mom.”

Brooke knew that was true. But only to a point. “And there is one more thing,” she added, turning into the neighborhood of palatial estates Fort Worth’s wealthiest citizens called home.

“Uh-oh,” Cole said. “I know that look….”

Brooke tried to focus on the positive. “Mr. Hutchinson has a boy your age who is just now coming to live with him. Landry’s mom died a year and a half ago, so he’s having a hard time.” Briefly, she explained what had transpired.

Cole fell silent, no doubt thinking about the death of his own father two years before, and the grief he had endured.

Finally, he asked, “Was Landry’s great-grandmother nice when you met her?”

“Very nice. She’s just too old and too ill to care for him.” Brooke turned into the drive. She keyed in the pass code that Nate had given her before she left. The electric gates opened.

“Wow,” Cole murmured, sitting up in his seat. “This is rich!”

At the end of the driveway, near the huge detached garage, Landry was kicking a landscaping stone across the pavement. Scowling, he barely looked up as she parked her minivan.

Cole’s compassionate expression faded, and wariness kicked in. “Is that the kid?” he asked.

Brooke nodded.

Her son tensed. “He doesn’t look friendly at all.” It didn’t matter. The success of this particular job meant the kids had to develop a rapport. So for all their sakes, she would use every one of the skills she possessed to make sure they did.




Chapter Three


Landry grumbled the moment he laid eyes on the supper selections. “There are dead fish on this pizza.”

Brooke knew it was a mistake to have Landry’s first meal with Nate in the formal dining room. The black lacquer table seated fifty. But there was no other place to eat inside the house, since the equally enormous kitchen was set up like a fancy hotel cook space, with stainless-steel counters and massive state-of-the-art appliances. So she had ignored her own instincts—which were to dine at one of the wrought-iron tables outside on the terrace—and gone along with Nate’s suggestion.

Nate looked momentarily taken aback by Landry’s disdain. “I had them put anchovies on only one of the pies.”

Landry stared at the dinner laid out for them, thanks to the local upscale pizza-delivery service. “That purple stuff looks gross, too.”

Nate glanced down at the colorful assortment of veggies topping another crust. “That’s grilled eggplant. And if you don’t like it, you could remove it and just eat the rest of the vegetables.”

That suggestion was met with mute resistance.

“Maybe you could try the Hawaiian pizza,” Brooke suggested kindly.

Landry scowled. “Who puts pineapple and ham on top of cheese and tomato sauce?”

“Actually, you’d be surprised. It’s pretty good.” Cole held out his plate. “I’ll have some,” he said.

Nate cheerfully handed over a generous slice.

“You might like it,” Brooke told Landry.

The boy stared glumly at the last option—a pale pizza with spinach and garlic—then looked back at Brooke. His great-grandmother had only been gone an hour, she thought. Already Landry was near meltdown. Her heart went out to him. Leaving Jessalyn would have been tough under any circumstances. Going to a place he didn’t know, to be with an old family friend he had never met …

She touched his arm lightly and offered a comforting smile. Landry gazed into her eyes, then wordlessly held out his plate. “My mom used to look at me like that, when she wanted me to do something I didn’t want to do,” he muttered beneath his breath.

Which was as close as they were going to get to verbal capitulation, Brooke thought, as she served him a slice of Hawaiian pizza. “You have to eat,” she said, using every ounce of motherly persuasion in her arsenal. “Otherwise, you’re only going to feel worse.”

Landry exhaled, bent his head over his plate, took a bite. Then another … and another.

Nate asked Cole how summer camp was going. Smiling, he launched into an account of everything he had done in the first two weeks. Brooke’s pride in her son’s outgoing nature and accomplished social skills was tempered by her concern for Landry. The orphaned child was so out of his depth here. Worse, she wasn’t sure Nate had the tools to reach him.

“Perhaps your attorney had a point,” she said half an hour later, when the two boys had gone outside to hit some tennis balls around the sport court behind the swimming pool. She cleared the table while Nate put the leftover pizza away. “Maybe you should slow this process down a bit, have Landry get to know you better first.”

“And put him where? Jessalyn’s heart is failing. She’s moving into a retirement village with round-the-clock nursing care tomorrow.”

“She can’t put it off even a short while or move in here with him temporarily?”

“I’ve already suggested both. It is Jessalyn’s opinion that Landry won’t bond with me or anyone else unless there’s no other option. She does think that he’ll enjoy academic camp. Apparently, he’s been extremely bored since school let out for the summer, and he’s as interested in computers and technology as Cole is.” Nate paused. “So I’ll work on getting that set up first thing tomorrow. In the meantime, I have to figure out what to do about the sleeping arrangements tonight.”

“What do you mean?” Brooke asked.

“Initially, I thought I would just put Landry in one of the guest rooms, and have you and Cole bunk in the caretaker’s cottage. Now I’m thinking it might be better to have you all stay in the main house this evening.”

“Or we could simply go home and come back tomorrow,” she offered hopefully.

Nate’s glance narrowed. “I don’t think Landry would like that.”

She sighed. “Probably not.”

Nate stepped closer.

She noticed the evening beard darkening his jaw. It lent a rugged masculinity to his already handsome features. Irritated to find herself attracted to him—again—she stepped back. She had a job to do here. One that did not involve lusting after the boss …

Oblivious to the desirous nature of her thoughts, Nate looked into Brooke’s eyes. “Landry’s bonding with you.”

She felt drawn to him, too. Landry needed a mom in his life again. So much so that he had immediately latched onto her.

But that was no solution, Brooke realized sadly.

She fought getting any more emotionally involved in a situation that was not hers to fix. She was trying to bring balance to her life, not more conflict. “He needs to bond with you, Nate.”

“And he will … over time,” Nate concurred calmly.

A little irked to see him treating this like just another life challenge, when it was so much more than that, Brooke murmured, “Never met a target you couldn’t charm?”

His persuasive smile faded, and with an understanding that seemed to go soul-deep, he murmured, “I never wanted to be in a situation where I had no family.”

But here he was, Brooke thought, unmarried and childless—until today, anyway.

“And I’m certain Landry doesn’t want to be in that situation, either.” Nate paused, before finishing resolutely, “When he realizes we can help each other, he’ll come around.”

Brooke hoped so. Otherwise, all four of them were in for a bumpy ride.

“PSSSST, MOM! Are you still awake?”

Her heart jumping at the urgency of the whisper, Brooke sat up in bed. “Cole?”

The guest room door eased open. Seconds later, Cole and Landry tiptoed in. Both were barefoot, clad in cotton pajama pants and T-shirts. Cole’s were stylish and vibrant: Landry’s were faded and on the verge of being too small.

Promising herself she would get Nate to take care of the clothes issue for Landry as soon as possible, Brooke turned on the bedside lamp. “Why aren’t you two asleep?”

Cole perched on the foot of her bed, then signaled for Landry to do the same. The boy came around to the other side.

It seemed being in the same boat had forged a bond between the two, Brooke noted. Realizing a first tentative step toward Landry’s future had been made, she smiled. Maybe Nate was smarter about all this than she had realized ….

“Because the place is too big and too quiet.” Hands clenched nervously, Landry sat down, too.

“It feels like we’re in a hotel—only we’re the only ones here,” Cole acknowledged with a comically exaggerated shiver. “Which is kind of spooky if you think about it too much.”

Ten thousand square feet of space was overwhelming, Brooke agreed. Especially the way the residence was decorated now, with a postmodern edge and minimal furnishings. The only television was in the master bedroom, where Nate was sleeping, so she couldn’t even offer that as a distraction.

“You boys have a big day tomorrow.” Both would be at summer camp all day. “I’ve got a lot on my schedule, too.”

“Can we hang out here for a while?” Cole asked.

Landry’s stomach grumbled loudly.

Suddenly, the mom in her kicked in, and Brooke knew what was really keeping them awake. “You guys wait here,” she told them. “I’ll be right back.”

NATE HAD JUST CLIMBED into bed when he heard the soft sound of footsteps in the hallway.

He sat up, listening. It wasn’t his imagination. That last creak had been the back stairs! He clamped down on an oath. Certain Landry was running away again, Nate flung back the covers and padded soundlessly down the hall, in the direction of the escape route.

But it wasn’t Landry he found standing in the bright light of the kitchen—it was Brooke.

Clad in a snug-fitting tank top and yoga pants, her brown hair tousled, she was standing at one of the two big stainless steel refrigerators, staring thoughtfully at the contents.

“I know,” Nate said. “I’ve got a little bit of everything in there.”

She shot him a look over her shoulder, as at ease in his home as he wanted her to be. “And here I didn’t imagine you could cook,” she drawled.

“I don’t. But I found out most of the women I’ve dated do, so it makes everyone happy if the fridge is well-stocked.”

Brooke’s smile faded. “Right,” she murmured.

The word had a wealth of undercurrents. “Meaning?” Nate prodded.

Her lips curved upward even as the light faded from her eyes. She said in a low, cordial tone, “You have a reputation for making the women in your life very happy, while they are in your orbit.”

Nate certainly tried. What point was there in spending time with someone unless it was a pleasurable experience? That didn’t mean, however, that he pretended something was going to work long term when it clearly wouldn’t.

“I don’t fall in love easily.” Although not for lack of trying. He wanted to be married and have a family.

She studied him as if trying to decide whether or not he was the womanizer some made him out to be, then brought out a bowl of fresh fruit, a loaf of artisan bread and a block of sharp cheddar. “Have you ever been in love?”

Nate handed over the serving board and bread slicer. “Once, with Landry’s mother.”

Brooke set to work preparing a snack, with the skill of a mom who spent a lot of time in the kitchen. “What happened to break you up? Or shouldn’t I ask?”

Normally, Nate followed the gentleman’s rule and did not talk about his previous relationships with women. For some reason, this was different. He wanted Brooke to understand. “I was working really long hours, getting my company off the ground,” he admitted, moving restlessly about the sleek, utilitarian kitchen. “Seraphina was pretty involved in planning our wedding, and she had an old friend living in her building. Miles Lawrence was trying to make it as a stand-up comedian, and she went to as many of his appearances as she could. I didn’t worry about the amount of time they spent together. As it turns out, I should have,” Nate reflected ruefully. “She broke off our engagement to run away with him.”

“And had a child,” Brooke interjected, perceptive as ever.

Reluctantly, Nate met her eyes. “Some eight months later.”

Her hand froze in midmotion. She stared at him, already doing the math. “Is it possible that Landry is yours?”

Nate had been wondering the same thing. All he could go on was what he knew for sure. “The birth certificate lists Miles Lawrence as Landry’s father.”

She went back to slicing up fruit and arranging it on a serving platter. “What about this Miles? Where is he?”

Nate lounged against the counter and watched the competent motions of her dainty hands. “Jessalyn told me yesterday that he left Seraphina before the baby was born. Miles wanted to focus on building an act that revolved around being a single guy, one always in love with a woman he could never hope to get.”

Brooke looked horrified. “Don’t tell me the man insisted he had to be chasing skirts to get material….”

Nate folded his arms across his chest, sharing her disdain. “Apparently so. Anyway, Seraphina was still in love with him and hoped he would come around and change his mind about marrying her and building a family together, if she gave him a little time. That’s what Jessalyn told me. But they never had a chance to find out. He died in a plane crash when Landry was just two months old.”

Brooke offered a commiserating glance. “So Landry never knew him.”

Nate shook his head. “According to Jessalyn, all he has are a few old photographs and stories from his mom.”

Brooke’s smooth brow furrowed. “So what are you going to do?”

What could he do? “Raise him as mine.”

“Without finding out?” Once again, Brooke looked shocked.

She was beginning to sound like his attorney. “There’s no point in it. I’ve already agreed to adopt Landry and bring him up as my son.” What counted, Nate knew, was the commitment made, and kept. Love would follow, over time. At least he hoped that would be the case. Thus far, Landry didn’t seem to have his heart open to anything except rebellion.

The tromp of youthful footsteps sounded on the back stairs. Seconds later, Landry and Cole came barreling into the kitchen. Cole nodded at Nate, then turned back to his mom. “Where have you been?” he demanded.

“We thought maybe you got lost,” Landry added, ignoring Nate altogether and looking at Brooke with concern.

Abruptly, the teenager swung around toward Nate, suspicious as ever. “How come you’re up?” he demanded.

Nate straightened. He had to find a way to get Landry to respect him. The first step was telling it like it was, in situations like this. “I heard something and thought you might be taking off again,” he informed him matter-of-factly.

An inscrutable light came into Landry’s eyes. It was followed swiftly by a smirk. “And so what? You were going to stop me?”

Nate nodded with the quiet authority he knew Landry needed. “That’s my job now.”

When Landry sullenly turned away, Nate knew he’d gotten his point across.

“It’s going to take time for Landry to adjust,” Brooke told Nate, after the boys had taken their snacks and headed upstairs.

How long? Nate wondered, aware that Landry was already giving Brooke a much easier time.

But then again, Nate realized, Brooke wasn’t the adult legally aiding Landry’s great-grandmother in keeping Landry here against his wishes ….

Brooke patted his arm before heading back upstairs, too. “In the meantime you’ve got to be patient and follow the plan you’ve set out and give him plenty of positive things to do.”

NATE KNEW BROOKE WAS right. So first thing the following morning, he took Landry to the academic camp where Cole was enrolled in the summer program. He and Landry talked to the director, took the tour. As they headed back to her office, the teen shrugged and muttered, “I guess it’ll be okay. Can I be in the same group as Cole?” The director nodded.

Nate filled out the paperwork, wrote a sizable check and said goodbye to Landry. Then he headed for downtown Fort Worth, and the weekly meeting with his four business partners at One Trinity River Place.

Knowing the four guys would have invaluable advice to offer, since they were all experienced parents, Nate filled the group in on everything that had happened the last few days, starting with Jessalyn’s phone call and the letter from her late granddaughter, Seraphina.

“Time helps,” Travis Carson said, with the expertise of a widower who had shepherded his own two daughters through the demise of their mother.

“In the meantime … I have to agree with your lawyer,” Grady McCabe told Nate seriously. “You are jumping the gun a bit, deciding to adopt Landry before the two of you have had a chance to develop any real rapport. The promise may not ring true to him.”

Nate respected Grady’s inherent ability to look at the big picture. Not just in the skyscrapers and other mixed-use development projects they built, but in their personal lives, too.

Dan Kingsland added matter-of-factly, “I know you’ve already hired Brooke Mitchell….”

Nodding, Nate was glad he’d had the foresight to bring her on board. She was the one ray of sunshine in his chaotic life right now.

“But redecorating your house just highlights the fact you’re going to have to make a lot of changes to take Landry in,” Dan continued. “I can’t say how he would respond to that, since I’ve never met him, but I know my three kids would interpret it to mean they’re a burden.”

Jack Gaines added, “The faster change occurs, the harder it is to accept.”

Nate knew Jack and his daughter had just weathered a lot of upheaval due to a hasty wedding in their family. But that had worked out okay in the end, too. “I have faith Brooke Mitchell will be able to pull this off,” he told his friends.

“The home makeover, sure,” Grady said. “Everyone knows Brooke can work miracles in that regard. That’s why her services are in such high demand.”

“But she’s not going to be there two weeks from now when the task is finished,” Dan cautioned.

“At that point,” Travis interjected, “you have got to be prepared to parent solo. And the rest of us know from experience that is one of the hardest things to do.”

But it could be done, Nate thought, as the meeting concluded and he headed home to confer with Brooke over the lunch hour. All he needed were a few more tips and parental insights from her to get Landry moving in the right direction. After that happened, Nate was confident that the tension in his household would fade.

When he drove in the front gates, he expected to see the cleaning van on its way out, not furniture dotting the lawn. Nor a Cadillac next to Brooke’s van, with a faculty parking sticker for a local university prominently displayed. Curious, Nate walked across the lawn, hearing the voices as he rounded the house.

“You gave me no choice,” the bearded, white-haired man said. “You’ve been ducking my calls.”

“I had hoped,” Brooke said archly, “that would be enough for you to get the message.”

The elderly man countered, “You and Cole have to be at the publication party for Seamus’s book.”

Wary of intruding, but not about to leave Brooke to fend for herself if help was needed, Nate reluctantly stayed where he was and continued listening in.

“If you and Cole don’t show up, people will start asking questions.”

“And we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Brooke’s voice rang with contempt. “We wouldn’t want anything to reflect poorly on the university!”

“We were protecting you and Cole.”

“While turning a blind eye? If you had wanted to help, you should have let me know what was going on, long before that night.”

“Brooke …” The gentleman held out a hand in entreaty.

She glared. “You have to leave.”

He pushed a book and what looked to be some sort of engraved invitation into her hands. “Not before you agree to attend the party.”

Her expression distraught, Brooke backed away.

Enough was enough. Nate walked briskly around the landscaped swimming pool toward the caretaker’s cottage. He extended a hand toward the bearded man. “Nate Hutchinson. And you’re …?”

“Professor Phineas Rylander, from the university where Brooke’s husband taught. I was just inviting her to a pre-publication party that the English department is giving for her late husband, Seamus. It’s his last work and we are very happy to be able to promote his collection of poetry. Naturally, we want Brooke and her son to attend.”

Brooke pressed her fingertips to her temple. “I don’t think it’s going to be possible.”

Professor Rylander refused to give up. “I beg you to reconsider.”

Nate clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“I—” the man began.

“I’ll walk you to your Cadillac.”

Reluctantly, the professor assented. Nate escorted him out, waited until he drove away, then returned to Brooke. She was sitting on one of the half-dozen pieces of mismatched furniture that had been moved to the lawn outside the cottage. She had the book and the invitation in her hands, and was staring down at the photo on the jacket cover.

Nate followed the direction of her gaze.

Seamus Mitchell had been handsome and distinguished. Yet Brooke was regarding the photo with utter loathing and contempt. Not exactly the reaction Nate would have expected. “Are you okay?”

She rose with quiet dignity. “No, I’m not,” she said frankly. “And you know why?” Bitterness underscored her every syllable. “Because I know what it feels like to be betrayed by a loved one, too!”




Chapter Four


Brooke hadn’t meant to blurt that out. But now that she had, she found she needed to unburden herself to someone who knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of such betrayal. Carefully, she set the book and the invitation on the chair she had been sitting on. “My husband didn’t just die of a heart attack.” That scenario would have been so much simpler to deal with. “He was in another woman’s bed at the time.”

Nate responded with an oath that perfectly summed up Brooke’s feelings on the matter. Appreciating his empathy, she swallowed around the tight knot of emotion in her throat. She threaded both hands through her hair and continued with as much grace as she could muster. “The university didn’t want a scandal. And there would have been one had word about what really happened gotten out, since Iris Lomax was Seamus’s graduate assistant.” Brooke exhaled deeply. “So the head of the English department, Professor Rylander, told everyone—including me—that he and Seamus had been out jogging when Seamus had the coronary.” Her son still thought that was what had happened ….

Nate gave her a look that said, Not cool. He reached over to squeeze her hand. “How did you find out that wasn’t the case?”

In the worst possible way. Brooke lifted her gaze to his. “The nurse in the E.R. had no idea there was a mistress involved. She thought what the paramedics on the scene had initially been led to believe—that Seamus had been having sex with me at the time of his coronary. She had questions about Seamus’s medical history, including a very mild heart attack the previous year that I knew nothing about.” Brooke added with self-effacing honesty, “I have to say the way I reacted was not one of my finer moments.” She was still embarrassed about how she had completely lost it.

Nate kept listening, his eyes kind.

Needing him to understand, as well as needing to unburden herself, Brooke confessed, “I had come to terms with the fact that my husband flirted with women the way some people breathe. I just thought it ended there.” Her former naivete still hurt and embarrassed her. “Finding out it hadn’t, and that Seamus had been taking some performance-enhancing drugs to keep up with all his extramarital activity—despite the known risks to someone who had already suffered a mild heart attack—was pretty devastating.” She had been angry at her husband for his recklessness and his infidelity, and furious with herself for being such a fool.

“Does Cole know any of this?” Nate asked softly.

Relief softened the set of Brooke’s shoulders, worked its way down her spine. “Heavens, no,” she muttered emotionally. “He still thinks his oh-so-charming father walked on water.” Despite the fact that Seamus had barely known Cole existed, except on the few occasions when the Irish poet had trotted him out, to show him off and enhance Seamus’s own ego. “Which is why I don’t want to take Cole to the book party.”

Nate’s eyes narrowed. “You’re afraid someone will say something,” he guessed.

“Although many faculty members remain in the dark about the circumstances surrounding Seamus’s death, I have since come to realize some knew about his philandering.” She took a deep breath. “Some of them thought I knew and was turning a blind eye, to keep the marriage intact. Others actively covered for him when he was out carousing, and helped him keep his infidelity from me.”

“So if any of them were to look at you sympathetically …” Nate guessed where this was going.

Brooke nodded. “Or just react in a way that would stir questions in Cole’s mind, it could be a problem. I worked very hard during the years of our marriage to protect Cole from anything unpleasant. Right now, he’s secure in his father’s love and the memories he has of our times together as family. He doesn’t realize that anything was amiss.” She crossed her arms self-consciously. “And I don’t want to do anything that would take away from that. Because there were parts of our lives together that were very good.” Times when Seamus had really poured on the Irish charm. “And that’s all I want to dwell on. So going back to the English department, where Seamus and I first met …”

Once again Nate looked shocked. “You were his student, too?” he asked in surprise.

“I took one of his classes when I was a senior,” Brooke admitted, with no small amount of cynicism. Looking back, she could see how gullible, how ripe for the picking she had been. But at the time, their age difference and Seamus’s history as a tortured artist, and a known womanizer with a penchant for getting involved with female students, hadn’t mattered. With effort, Brooke found her voice. “He was twenty years older than me, and when the writing was going well—as it was at the time—he was very sweet and kind and funny and loving.” That was all she had seen. All she had needed to see.

“He made you happy.”

Not ashamed to admit it, Brooke nodded. “When he asked me to marry him and give him a child, I was thrilled. I’d finally have a family again, and so would he.” Maybe she’d been blind, but her first years as a devoted wife and mother had been one of the happiest times of her life. “We had Cole right away. Seamus wrote a few new poems and continued teaching. And I became consumed with building a part-time business on the side, and being a mom.”

“And later?”

“We still had good times. But Seamus was under a lot of pressure. In academia, what they say about publish or perish is very true. The powers that be were on him to produce another book of poetry the university could promote.” She swallowed uncomfortably. “Seamus didn’t think it was that simple. He wanted to wait to be inspired, but that wasn’t an option if he wanted to keep his standing in the department. So eventually he did what was expected.” Brooke tried not to dwell on the fact that Seamus’s mistress had no doubt supplied the muse for the latest collection of love poetry, just as Brooke had allegedly inspired his earlier work.

She sighed and went on. “He had just submitted Love Notes from the Soul to his previous publisher, The Poet’s Press, and was waiting to hear back about whether or not they were going to buy it, when he died. Eventually, they decided they wanted to publish it posthumously, since it was his last work.” Even though it wasn’t his best work. Far from it, actually.

Nate studied her, as if sensing there was more. “So what are you going to do?” he asked finally.

Brooke put away her lingering feelings of anger and resentment. “I’m not sure. The university has notified all the newspapers in the state that the book is coming out, and they’re trying to get it reviewed. Since Seamus isn’t here, they’d like me to speak with the press and help promote it.”

“But you don’t want to,” Nate noted, perceptively.

She picked up the invitation and advance copy of her late husband’s book and held them at her side. “Every instinct I have tells me it would be a mistake, especially since my feelings on the matter are so complicated. So I’m going to sidestep that minefield and let the university handle it. In the meantime—” she put her personal angst aside and got back to the business at hand “—I’d like to show you what I’ve done with the guesthouse.”

“THIS IS ABSOLUTELY AMAZING,” Nate murmured several minutes later, after he had completed the tour of the caretaker’s cottage. The mismatched furniture had been covered with soft blue denim slipcovers, and colorful braid rugs adorned the newly polished wide-plank pine floors. Art was on the walls. Blue-and-white paisley draperies dressed up the plantation shutters on the windows. The old appliances in the kitchen sparkled, and a round table for four had been brought in and set with dishes that were as pretty and useful as everything else in the home.

Nate cast another glance at the cotton quilts on the beds, the fresh towels, rugs and shower curtain in the lone bathroom. It was like a guesthouse out of a magazine, with all the comforts one could possibly desire. “How did you make it so livable so fast?”

“Well, as you can see, I had everything moved onto the lawn, then had the cleaning service do a thorough scrubbing of the space. I put half the furniture back, keeping the pieces that were in the best shape and leaving the others outside. Which brings me to my next question.” She walked out to the yard and gestured at the odds and ends. “Do you want to put these things into storage or give them to an auction house for resale, along with everything you won’t be using?”

“Auction everything.” The money from the sale would go a long way toward funding the makeover.

Brooke made a note on her clipboard. “You said you wanted to get away from the black-and-white color scheme.”

“Right.” Nate sauntered back into the cottage and gestured toward the inviting decor. “I want the main house to look as comfortable as this.” Like the cozy, welcoming homes all his married friends had. A place where he could come home and put his feet up.

Brooke tapped the pen against her chin. “That’s a pretty big undertaking. We’re talking about furnishings for ten thousand square feet of space. And we’ll have to come up with a new color scheme.”

Nate felt his eyes begin to glaze over. That always happened when the discussion turned to decorating. “Whatever you decide is fine with me.”

She looked at him, clearly unconvinced.

He lifted both palms in surrender. “I’m not kidding—I like your taste. You understand a lot about boys and what they need. Speaking of which …” He took a deep breath and plunged on. “I’m planning to take Landry to get a haircut this evening after camp. And then to buy the clothes he needs. Any chance you and Cole might want to join us?”

Brooke hesitated.

Nate knew he was pushing it, dragging her further into this situation. But he had no choice. Edging closer still, he threw himself on her mercy. “I know nothing about any of this. And Landry can tell. You, on the other hand, are Supermom.”

She raked her teeth across her lower lip. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” he said. “I could use your help. Please don’t make me beg….”

As their eyes locked, Nate sensed a wall going up between them. “I meant what I said yesterday. You’re going to have to learn to do this on your own eventually,” Brooke stated, sizing him up with golden-brown eyes.

“Eventually being the key word,” he agreed.

After another moment, she finally relented, as he had hoped she would.

It was Landry Nate had trouble convincing.

“No way!” the teen said when he and Cole got home from camp, and they were told the plan. “I’m not getting a haircut, and I don’t want or need any new clothes.”

“Why do I have to go?” Cole chimed in.

“Because you need a haircut and a new pair of shoes,” Brooke told him firmly.

Cole apparently knew that tone, Nate noted. Both boys sighed in resignation and tromped back out toward the driveway, muttering under their breaths the entire way.

“Nicely done,” Nate said, falling into step beside Brooke.

Her expression as resigned as her son’s, she murmured back, “Don’t congratulate either of us until we complete our tasks.”

Nate wasn’t sure what she meant. He found out twenty minutes later, when they entered the unisex hair salon. Brooke went over with Cole to talk to the stylist taking walk-in appointments, and then sat down to read a magazine.

Landry glared at Nate, cutting off any attempt on his part to do the same. “If I have to do this, I’m doing it my way,” he growled as another available stylist walked toward them.

Figuring anything would be an improvement if it got the hair out of the boy’s eyes, Nate nodded and gave him free rein. “I’ve got a call to make. I’ll be right outside.”

He stepped out into the mall. When he came back twenty minutes later, Cole was finished. His hair was cut in traditional adolescent-boy layers. He looked preppy and well-groomed. Brooke seemed pleased.

Landry was finished, too.

“You don’t like it, do you?” he challenged, after Nate had paid the cashier.

But Brooke’s son did. “You look like a punk rocker,” Cole observed admiringly.

Which, Nate figured, Landry had done to tick him off.

Aware that Landry was waiting for him to lose his cool, Nate glanced at the new cut. The hair on top of Landry’s head was short, spiky and stood straight up. The rest was thinned and layered, and fell almost to his shoulders. “Looks trendy,” Nate said, and left it at that.

The teen scowled. “You can’t like it,” he insisted.

Which meant, Nate thought, Landry didn’t like it.

Nate shrugged. “Your hair, your choice.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed. All rebellious teenager again, he pointed out, “You didn’t say that when you were making me get my hair cut.”

“My bad,” Nate admitted, realizing too late he shouldn’t have forced the issue.

Landry continued to glare at him. Finally, realizing Nate was sincere in his reversal, he scowled and said nothing more.

Brooke glanced at Nate as the boys walked on ahead.

The empathy in her eyes made him feel better. Although he still didn’t know what he was doing in terms of being the dad Landry seemed to want and need.

The two teens paused in front of a popular clothing store known for its appeal to teenagers.

As they stood there, Nate noticed the longing on Landry’s face. It had obviously been months since anyone had bought clothes for him, and Jessalyn would probably not have known to come here. “This okay with you?” Nate asked.

Landry’s expression transformed. He looked at the cargo-shorts and T-shirt-clad model in the window with exaggerated disdain. “Sure,” he drawled sarcastically, “why not? If you’re going to torture me, why not torture me all the way?”

“Enthusiasm,” Nate murmured, resisting the urge to clap an affectionate hand on the lad’s shoulder. “Just what I want to see.” Stuffing fingers in his pockets, he followed Landry inside. Brooke and Cole sauntered in after them. The boys headed straight for the racks of T-shirts.

An hour later, they walked out with enough clothing to see Landry through the rest of the summer.

Next stop was the shoe store, where Landry and Cole both got new athletic shoes and sandals.

Hamburgers, shakes and fries followed. It was nine o’clock before they returned to Nate’s place.

“We’re sleeping in the caretaker’s cottage tonight,” Brooke told Cole, when he got out of Nate’s Jaguar.

“Then I want to sleep there, too,” Landry said.

Brooke looked at a loss.

Nate figured it was one battle best not fought that evening. Tabling his own disappointment, he said, “If it’s okay with you, it’s okay with me.” His primary concern was that Landry be safe.

Brooke hesitated. It was clear she felt like a traitor to what Nate was trying to do, but also knew the dynamics of the situation. She turned and put a hand on each teen’s shoulder. “Then let’s go, guys.”

FOR THE NEXT HOUR, Nate roamed the mansion, trying to envision how it would appear when Brooke was finished with the makeover.

The more he looked around, the more it seemed he had given her an impossible task.

The rooms were all too large. There were too many of them. Even without the contemporary black and white furnishings, it was too big and cold and sterile.

No wonder Cole and Landry had eagerly gone off with Brooke to the now-cozy caretaker’s cottage.

Given the choice, Nate would have preferred the smaller abode, too.

And no wonder Landry preferred being with Brooke over him. Spending time with her probably reminded him of home.

Ironically, Cole didn’t seem to mind spending time with him, Nate thought as he changed clothes and went down to the pool for a swim. In fact, Brooke’s son seemed eager to get acquainted with him. It was only his son-to-be, Nate thought as he swam lap after lap, who couldn’t have cared less if they developed a rapport.

And that could spell trouble in the future, he realized, as he climbed from the pool, his workout ended.

Just then the cottage door opened and Brooke crossed the lawn. Nate ran a towel over his face and hair, then draped it around his waist.

Brooke had changed out of her business clothes into a figure-hugging T-shirt, running shorts and flip-flops. She’d swept her hair into a silky knot on the back of her head. She looked pretty and at ease in that mom-next-door way.

“Landry and Cole asleep?” he asked.

“Yes.” Her expression went from genial to concerned.

“You don’t have to say it.” Nate grabbed the water bottle he’d brought out with him, and drank deeply. Aware they’d known each other only a few days, but were already talking with the candor of two people who had known each other for years, he sighed. “I know I blew it tonight.”

Brooke’s eyes softened. “That’s not what I came over here to say.”

Maybe not in those exact words … Disappointed in how he was handling the situation, Nate made no effort to hide his mounting frustration. He wasn’t just a CEO, capable of starting a company from scratch and building it into a resounding success, he also had a background in sales. Years of experience honing the winning pitch had schooled him on how to gain the confidence of those who barely knew him. Yet despite all that he was failing mightily with the one person who needed to believe in him most. Failing Landry in the same way Nate himself had been let down in his youth. “Then … what did you want to say?” he asked impatiently.

Brooke perched on the edge of a round, wrought-iron patio table, gripping the edge. “You’re pushing him too hard.”

As Nate moved closer, the shimmering blue from the swimming pool illuminated the otherwise dark night with a soothing glow. There was enough light for him to see the self-conscious color creeping into her fair cheeks. “All that stuff had to get done today.”




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/cathy-thacker-gillen/the-mummy-proposal/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.