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The Kincaids: New Money: Behind Boardroom Doors
Jennifer Lewis
Heidi Betts
Day Leclaire
Kincaid Boardroom Battles & Illegitimate HeirsWhen secretary Brooke sees her formidable, sexy boss RJ Kincaid behaving badly, she takes him aside, gives him a drink and…ends up in his arms. If only she didn’t have a secret that could tear the Kincaid family apart…The Groom Wants To Change Brides!Event planner Kara Kincaid is planning her sister’s wedding. But when her sister calls the whole thing off, the jilted groom starts showing Kara some very personal attention…Hotel magnate Eli has finally found the right woman, now he just has to convince Kara…



The Kincaids Collection
THE KINCAIDS: SOUTHERN SEDUCTION
March 2013
THE KINCAIDS: NEW MONEY
April 2013
THE KINCAIDS: PRIVATE MERGERS
May 2013

TheKincaidsNew Money
Behind Boardroom Doors
Jennifer Lewis
On the Verge of I Do
Heidi Betts


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

Behind Boardroom Doors

About the Author
JENNIFER LEWIS has been dreaming up stories for as long as she can remember and is thrilled to be able to share them with readers. She has lived on both sides of the Atlantic and worked in media and the arts before she grew bold enough to put pen to paper. She would love to hear from readers at jen@jenlewis.com. visit her website at www.jenlewis.com.
Dear Reader,
I still remember the first time I discovered romance novels. I was working in mid-town Manhattan, around the corner from the Donnell Library. On my lunch breaks I often headed to the library looking for something to read and before long I noticed the big rack of series romance novels. I don’t remember which book I picked up first, but it didn’t take me long to get hooked.
I loved the strong, savvy characters in every book and the interesting mix of settings. I looked forward to plunging into each new romance and following the ups and downs of the couple’s road to their happy ending. I also enjoyed the short length of the stories, which allowed me to ride the whole rollercoaster in a day.
Eventually I grew daring enough to try my hand at writing, though it took many years before I honed my craft enough to bear the precious logo. This book is my fourteenth and I hope you enjoy Brooke and RJ’s romance!
Happy reading,
Jennifer Lewis


For Pippa, international pony of mystery and cherished member of our family

One
“There is one good thing about this situation.” RJ Kincaid slammed his phone down on the conference table, his voice cracking with fury.
“What’s that?” Brooke Nichols stared at her boss. She failed to see a bright side.
“Now we know things cannot possibly get any worse.” His eyes flashed and he leaned forward in his chair. The other staff in the meeting sat like statues. “My calls to the prosecutor’s office, the police, the courts, the state senator—have all been ignored.”
He stood and marched around the table. “The Kincaid family is under siege and they’re firing on us from all angles.” Tall and imposing at the best of times, with bold features, dark hair and smoky slate-blue eyes, RJ now looked like a general striding into battle. “And my mother, Elizabeth Winthrop Kincaid, the finest woman in Charleston, will be spending tonight behind bars like a common criminal.”
He let out a string of curses that made Brooke shrink into her chair. She’d worked for RJ for five years and she’d never seen him like this. Normally he was the most easygoing man you could meet, never rattled by even the most intense negotiations, with time for everyone and a nonchalant approach to life.
Of course that was before his father’s murder and the revelation that his privileged and entitled existence was founded on lies.
RJ walked over to his brother Matthew. “You’re the director of new business—is there any new business?”
Matthew inhaled. They both knew the answer. Even some of their most stalwart clients had fled the company in the aftermath of the scandal. “There is the Larrimore account.”
“Yes, I suppose we do have one new account to hang our hopes on. Greg, how are the books looking?” RJ strode around to the CFO and for a moment she thought he was going to collar him.
Mild-mannered Greg shrank into his chair. “As you know, we’re experiencing challenges—”
“Challenges!” RJ cut him off, raising his hands in the air in a dramatic gesture. “That’s one way of looking at it. A challenge is an opportunity for growth, a time to rise up and seize opportunity, to embrace change.”
He turned and walked back across the room. Everyone sat rigid in their chairs, probably praying he wouldn’t accost them.
“But what I see here is a company on the brink of going under.” RJ shoved a hand through his thick, dark hair. His handsome features were hard with anger. “And all of you are just sitting in your chairs taking notes as if we’re at some garden party. Get up and get out there and do something, for Chrissakes!”
No one moved an inch. Brooke rose from her chair, unable to stop herself. “Urn …” She had to get him out of here. He was acting like a jerk and if he continued like this he’d do himself permanent harm in the company.
“Yes, Brooke?” He turned to face her, and lifted an eyebrow. His eyes met hers and a jolt of energy surged in her blood.
“I need to speak to you outside.” She picked up her laptop and headed for the door, heart pounding. He could probably fire her on the spot in his current mood, but she wasn’t doing her job if she let him insult and harangue employees who were already under a lot of pressure and stress through no fault of their own.
“I’m sure it can wait.” He frowned and gestured to the gathered meeting.
“Just for a moment. Please.” She continued toward the door, hoping he’d follow.
“Apparently my assistant’s need to consult with me in private is more urgent than the imminent collapse of The Kincaid Group, and the imprisonment of my mother. Since it’s the end of the day I’m sure you also have better places to be. Meeting dismissed.”
RJ moved to the door in time to hold it open for her. A wave of heat and adrenaline rose inside her as she passed him, her arm almost brushing against his. He closed the door and followed her out. In the hush of the carpeted hallway Brooke almost lost her nerve. “In your office, please.”
“I don’t have time to loll about in my office. My mother’s in the county jail in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Brooke reminded herself his rudeness was the result of extreme stress. “Trust me. It’s important.” Her own firm tone surprised her. She walked ahead into the spacious corner office with views of the Charleston waterfront. The sunset cast a warm amber glow over the water reflected on the walls in moving patterns. “Come on in.”
RJ sauntered into the room, then crossed his arms. “Happy now?”
“Sit down.” She closed the door and locked it.
“What?”
Her resolve faltered as her boss glared at her.
“On the couch.” She pointed to it, in case he’d forgotten where it was. She almost blushed at the way it sounded as she said it. What a lovelorn secretary’s fantasy! But this situation was serious. “I’m going to pour you a whiskey and you’re going to drink it.”
He didn’t move. “Have you lost your mind?”
“No, but you’re beginning to lose yours and you need to step back and take a deep breath before you damage your reputation. You can’t talk to employees like that, no matter what the circumstances. Now sit.” She pointed at the sofa again.
A stunned RJ lowered himself onto it.
Brooke poured three fingers of whisky into a crystal tumbler with shaking hands. Everything really did seem to be going to hell in a handbasket for RJ. Until now he’d faced each disaster with composure, but apparently he’d reached his breaking point.
Their fingers touched as she handed him the glass, and she cursed the subtle buzz of awareness that always haunted her around RJ. “Here, this will settle your nerves.”
“My nerves are just fine.” He took a sip. “It’s everything else that’s screwed up. The police can’t really believe my mother killed my father!”
He took a long swig, which made Brooke wince. She bit her lip. The pained expression on his handsome face tugged at her heart. “We both know it’s impossible, and they’ll figure that out.”
“Will they?” RJ raised a dark brow and peered up at her. “What if they don’t? What if this is the first of many long nights in jail for her?” He shuddered visibly and took another swig. “It kills me that I can’t protect her from this.”
“I know. And you’re still grieving the death of your father.”
“Not just his literal death.” RJ stared at the floor. “The death of everything I thought I knew about him.”
She and RJ had never discussed the scandalous revelations about the Kincaid family, but they were both aware she knew all the details—along with everyone else in Charleston. They’d been splashed all over the local media every day since his father’s murder on December 30th. It was now March.
“Another family.” He growled the words like a curse. “Another son, born before me.” He shook his head. “All my life I was Reginald Kincaid, Jr. Proud son and heir and all I wanted to do was follow in my father’s footsteps. Little did I know they’d been wandering off into some other woman’s house, to sleep with her and raise her children, too.”
He glanced up, and his pain-filled gaze stole her breath. It killed her to see him suffering like this. If only she could soothe his hurt and anger.
“I’m so sorry.” It was all she could manage. What could she say? “I’m sure he loved you. You could see it in his face when he looked at you.” She swallowed. “I bet he wished things were different, and that he could have at least told you before he died.”
“He had plenty of time to tell me. I’m thirty-six years old, for Chrissakes. Was he waiting until I hit fifty?” RJ rose to his feet and crossed the room, whiskey splashing in the glass. “That’s what hurts the most. That he didn’t confide in me. All the time we spent together, all those long hours fishing or hunting, walking through the woods with guns. We talked about everything under the sun—except that he was living a lie.”
RJ tugged at his tie with a finger and loosened his collar. Recent events had given him an air of gravitas that he’d never had before. The strain hardened his noble features and gave his broad shoulders the appearance of carrying the weight of the world.
Brooke longed to take him in her arms and give him a reassuring hug. But that would not be a good idea. “You’re doing a great job of keeping the family together and the company afloat.”
“Afloat!” RJ let out a harsh laugh. “It would be a real problem for a shipping company if it couldn’t stay afloat.” His eyes twinkled with humor for a split second. “But at the rate we’re losing clients we’ll be belly up in the bay before the year is out if I don’t turn things around. For every new client Matthew brings in, we’re losing two old ones. And I don’t even have a free hand to guide the company. My father—in his infinite wisdom—saw fit to give his illegitimate son forty-five percent of the company and only leave me a measly nine percent.”
Brooke grimaced. That did seem the cruelest act of all. RJ had devoted his entire working life to The Kincaid Group. He’d been executive vice president almost since he left college, and everyone—including him—assumed he’d one day be president and CEO. Until his father had all but left the company to a son no one knew about. “I suppose he did that because he felt guilty about keeping Jack secret all these years.”
“As well he might.” RJ marched back across the room and took another swig of whiskey. “Except he didn’t seem to think about how much it would hurt the rest of us. Even all five of us Kincaids together don’t have a majority vote. Ten percent of the stock is owned by some mystery person we can’t seem to find. If Jack Sinclair gains control over the missing ten percent he’ll get to decide how to run The Kincaid Group and the rest of us have to go along with it or ship out. I’m seriously considering doing the latter.”
“Leaving the company?” She couldn’t believe it. Selfish thoughts about her own job disappearing almost toppled her concern for RJ.
“Why not? It’s not mine to run. I’m just another cog in the machine. That’s not what my dad groomed me for or what I want for myself.” He slammed the empty glass down on a table. “Maybe I’ll leave Charleston for good.”
“Calm down, RJ.” Brooke poured another three fingers of pungent whiskey into the glass. Right now it seemed a good idea to get him too drunk to go anywhere at all. “It’s early days yet. Nothing will be decided about the company until the shareholders’ meeting and, until then, everyone’s counting on you to steer the ship through these rough waters.”
“I love all your nautical lingo.” He flashed a wry grin as he took the glass. “I knew there was a good reason I hired you.”
“That and my excellent typing skills.”
“Typing—pah. You could run this company if you put your mind to it. You’re not just organized and efficient, you’re good with people. You’ve managed to talk me back off the ledge today, and I thank you for it.” He took another sip. The whiskey was certainly doing its job. Already the hard edge of despair and anger had softened.
Now was not the time to mention that she had applied for a management job, and been turned down. She didn’t know if RJ was behind that, or if he even knew.
“I didn’t want you to upset people any more than they already are.” She pushed a hand through her hair. “Everyone’s temper is running high and we need to work together. The last thing you want is for key employees to quit and make things worse in the run-up to the shareholders’ meeting.”
“You’re right, as usual, my lovely Brooke.”
Her eyes widened. Obviously the whiskey was going straight to his head. Still, she couldn’t help the funny warm feeling his words generated inside her, almost like a shot of whiskey to her core.
“The most important thing right now is to find your dad’s murderer.” She tried to distract herself from RJ’s melting gaze. “Then your mom won’t be under suspicion.”
“I’ve hired a private investigator.” RJ peered into his glass. “I told him I’ll pay for twenty-four hours in the day and he shouldn’t stop until he finds the truth.” He looked up at her. “Of course I told him to start with the Sinclair brothers.”
Brooke nodded. Jack Sinclair sounded like a man with an ax to grind, though her vision could be skewed by the fact that he’d inherited her boss’s birthright. She hadn’t met Jack or his half brother Alan. “They must be angry your dad kept them secret all these years.”
“Yup. Resentment.” RJ sat down on the sofa again. “I’m beginning to know what that feels like.”
“Very understandable.” Her chest ached with emotion. She wished she could bear some of the burden for him. “This whole situation came out of nowhere for you.”
“Not to mention my mom.” He shook his head. “Though sometimes I wonder if she knew. She didn’t seem as surprised as the rest of us.”
Brooke swallowed. Elizabeth Kincaid would have had at least some motivation for the murder if she’d known about her husband’s adultery. And she had seen her in the office on the night of the murder. She shook the thought from her brain. There was no way such a quiet and gentle person could fire a bullet at another human, even her cheating husband. “Let me pour you some more.”
She brought the bottle over to the sofa and leaned down to fill RJ’s glass. The whiskey sloshed in the bottle as he stuck out a strong arm and pulled her roughly onto the sofa with him. She let out a tiny shriek as her hips settled into the soft leather next to his.
“I appreciate the company, Brooke. I guess I needed someone to talk to.” His arm had now settled across her shoulders, his big hand wrapped around her upper arm. She could hardly breathe. And when she did his warm, masculine scent assaulted her senses and raised her blood pressure.
RJ settled into the sofa a little, caressing her shoulder with his hand. Heat bloomed under his fingers, through her thin blouse. She still held the whiskey bottle and wondered if she should pour from it, or if he’d had enough. He answered the question by taking it from her with his free hand, and putting it on the floor along with his glass. His hand then settled on her thigh, where she could feel the warmth of his palm through her smart gray skirt. Her heart quickened when he turned to look at her.
RJ’s expression was one of intense concentration. He seemed to be examining her face like she was a table of container ship sailings. “I never noticed how green your eyes are.”
Brooke had a sudden urge to roll those eyes. How many women had he used that line on? RJ was famous throughout the Southeast as a Most Eligible Bachelor and had enjoyed his single status as long as she’d known him. “Some people would call them gray.” Was she really sitting almost in RJ’s lap talking about her eyes, or was this some kind of manic dream?
“They’d be wrong.” Again his expression was deadly serious. “But lately I’m learning that people are wrong a lot of the time.” His gaze fell to her mouth. Her lips parted slightly and she pressed them back together. “I’m having to question a lot of my assumptions about the world.”
“Sometimes that’s good.” She spoke softly, wondering if she’d said the wrong thing. Sitting this close to RJ was dangerous. Arousal already crept through her limbs and strange parts of her were starting to tingle.
“I suppose so.” RJ frowned. “Though it doesn’t make life any easier.”
Poor RJ. He was used to being the golden child, his entire life mapped out at birth and his every need taken care of before he could even voice it.
“Sometimes challenges can make us stronger.” It was hard to form sensible thoughts with his arm around her shoulder and his other hand on her knee. She could feel the power of his sturdy body right through her clothes. Part of her wanted to stand up and go organize the papers on his desk. The other part wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and …
RJ’s lips crushed over hers in a hot, whiskey-scented kiss that banished all thought. Her body melted against his and she felt her fingers do what they’d wanted all along—roam into his stiff white shirt and the hard, hot muscle beneath.
His hands caressed her, making her skin hum with arousal. Her nipples thickened and a powerful wave of heat rose in her belly. RJ’s raw hunger for affection—for help—gave urgency to his touch. She could feel how badly he needed her, right now, here in his arms.
She kissed him back with equal force, affection for him overpowering any more sensible urges. She wanted to heal his hurt, to make him feel better, and right now she almost felt that was within her power. Emotions surged within her. She’d adored RJ almost since the day she met him and his strength under adversity only made her admire him more. She’d never dared imagine for a single second that he’d return her feelings.
Their kiss deepened and heated and for a moment she thought they’d fuse and become one, then RJ pulled back gently. “Brooke, you’re an amazing woman.”
His soft sigh contained a thick aroma of all those fingers of whiskey she’d poured him. Would he regret this in the morning? Still, hearing him call her an amazing woman stirred something powerful inside her. Was this the beginning of a totally new phase in their relationship? Maybe they’d start dating and she’d be able to help him negotiate the minefield of his life and come happily out the other side with him—arm in arm. His arms felt fabulous around her right now.
Or would she remember this as the moment she destroyed her hard-earned career at The Kincaid Group and permanently alienated her boss by getting him drunk and compromising their professional relationship? A ball of fear burst open like a mold spore inside her.
What was she doing? She’d gotten him drunk, then let him kiss her. It was all her fault, even she could see that.
RJ stroked her cheek and she fought a sudden urge to nuzzle against him like a cat. Was it so wrong to give him the affection and comfort he craved? Again, violins and visions of a rose-scented courtship hummed in her mind. She was strong enough to help him through this. Her own background had made her a resilient person.
RJ caressed her, taking in the curve of her breast with his fingers then trailing over her thigh. The musky scent of him filled her senses for a second as his lips met hers again and kissed her softly.
Cigar smoke clung to his suit from the long business lunch he’d hosted at a local restaurant, and mingled rather intoxicatingly with the whiskey. Everything about RJ seemed delicious to her right now. She wanted to wrap herself up in him and stay there forever.
But he withdrew again, leaving her lips stinging. Then he frowned and pushed a hand through his hair as if wondering what he was doing.
An icy finger of doubt slid down Brooke’s back. Perhaps that smoky smell came from the smoldering ruin of her career and reputation. Instinct pushed her to her feet, which wasn’t easy with her knees reduced to wobbly jelly. “Maybe it’s time to get out of here. It’s after seven.”
RJ leaned his head back against the sofa, eyes closed. “I’m beat. I don’t think I can take another step today.”
“I’ll call you a cab.” She certainly didn’t want him driving with all that whiskey in him. He didn’t live far away, but driving or walking him home didn’t seem like such a great idea, either. If he invited her in, she wasn’t sure she could say no, and she knew she’d regret being that easy.
“Don’t worry about me, Brooke. I’ll sleep here on the sofa. I’ve done it many times before. If I wake up in the middle of the night I’ll go through some of the paperwork I need to read.”
“You’ll wake up sore.”
“I’ll be fine.” Already he was sinking into the sofa, eyes sleepy. “Go home and rest and I’ll see you in the morning.”
Brooke bit her lip. Somehow it hurt to be dismissed like this after their steamy kisses. What did she expect? That he’d want her by his side every moment from now on? Maybe after so much whiskey he’d already forgotten he even kissed her.
“What about dinner?”
“Not hungry,” he murmured.
“There’s half a plate of sandwiches in the fridge left over from a luncheon meeting today. I could get them for you.”
“Stop trying to mother me, and go home.” His tone was almost curt. Brooke swallowed and turned for the door. Then she noticed RJ had sat up again, head in his hands. “I can’t believe my mom is in jail. It’s just so wrong. I’ve never felt so powerless in my life.”
Brooke walked back toward him. “She’s a strong woman and she’ll survive. You’ve done all you can for now and it won’t help her if you worry yourself sick over it. Get some sleep so you’ll be ready to make the most of tomorrow. You’ve got a company to save.”
He blew out a hard breath. “You’re right, Brooke, as usual. Thanks for everything.”
Already he’d lain down, eyes closed. A fierce pang of tenderness for him ached in her chest. So tall and strong and proud and so anxious to go immediately into battle to save his mom. RJ was the kind of man any woman would adore. And she was only one among the many who did.
She slipped out of his office and closed the door, then picked up her jacket and bag from her own desk outside it. Thanks for everything. Was that his way of wrapping up the evening’s events—memos typed, letters filed, kisses received. All in a day’s work.
“Bye, Brooke.”
She startled at the sound of her name. She’d totally forgotten there might still be other employees on the floor. Usually everyone was long gone by now, but PR assistant Lucinda was donning her jacket two cubicles away. Brooke wondered if her cheeks were flushed or her lips red. Surely there must be some telltale signs that she’d locked lips with her boss.
“Bye, Luce.” She hurried for the elevator, hoping no one else would see her.
When the doors opened Joe from Marketing was inside. “What a day,” he exhaled, as she stepped in. “This place is coming apart at the seams.”
“No, it isn’t.” She bristled with indignation. “We’re going through tough times but a year from now this will all be forgotten and the company will be back on top again.”
Joe raised a sandy brow. “Really? If old Mrs. Kincaid did it I don’t think the family reputation will recover. And it’s sure looking like she did. I bet she’s enjoying life as the merry widow now.”
“She didn’t do it.” Still, a sliver of doubt wedged itself into her mind. Anyone could be pushed past their breaking point, and Elizabeth Kincaid had been pushed pretty far from the sound of it. “And don’t go spreading rumors that she did. You’ll make things worse.”
“Are you going to report me to your boss?” He shifted his bag higher on his shoulder.
“No. He’s got enough problems right now. He needs all of our support.”
“You’re like a wife to him, so supportive and attentive to his needs.” His grin was less than reassuring. “If only we could all be as lucky as RJ.”
She froze. Could he know something had happened between her and RJ? The doors opened and she stepped out with relief. “I’m not his wife.”
Though maybe one day I could be. Fantasies already played at the edge of her mind. Dangerous fantasies. Dreams that could explode in her face and destroy her career and reputation.
Still it was hard not to let her imagination wander just a little….

Two
Brooke had a sleepless night. In the morning her hair was a mess and she had to whip out the curling iron to bring some life back to the limp brown locks brushing her shoulders. She applied her makeup carefully, wanting to look as beautiful as RJ had made her feel last night. Did she look different now that she’d kissed him?
Not really. At least her eyes weren’t red from crying—yet. RJ would be able to blame his sudden enchantment with her on the whiskey she gave him. She, on the other hand, could blame only her years-long fascination with him. She’d fallen into his arms without a protest, and kissed him with passion that came from the heart.
She wore her smartest black suit. She’d bought it on sale at a fancy boutique, and with its well-cut designer lines it was something a rich girl would wear. She stood back and surveyed herself in the full-length mirror. Did she look like a potential girlfriend of RJ Kincaid?
She knew what her mom would say. You have a nice figure, you should show it off more. But that wasn’t her style. Besides, the last thing she wanted was a man who only cared about her breasts and not her brain.
She donned her Burberry raincoat, a cherished consignment store find. She preferred a demure, somewhat conservative style that said, I mean business. She wanted people to take her seriously. She’d never flirted with RJ for a single instant, as her job meant far more to her than the prospect of a quick kiss and cuddle.
Fear licked around the edges of her brain. Would RJ be embarrassed by last night’s indiscretions and find a way to shunt her aside? Her heart pounded as she walked into the Kincaid building.
Her throat dried as she stepped out of the elevator on their floor. How would she greet him? Would he be furious she’d made him drunk and landed them in a compromising position?
Maybe he wouldn’t remember that he’d kissed her at all.
His office door was closed. Was RJ still in there sleeping on the sofa? She hung her coat with shaking hands and wiped sweaty palms on her skirt before approaching. She lifted her hand to knock, then hesitated.
Maybe she should wait for him to come out. He might have a major hangover he needed to sleep off. She turned and went to sit at her desk. She was always the first person in each morning. She liked to get her in-box dealt with before the phones started ringing.
Brooke checked her email, then pulled the mail from her tray and started to sort through it. But her eyes kept straying to the closed door. Was he still upset about his mom being jailed? Who wouldn’t be? He could probably use a coffee and some breakfast.
She rose from her chair and approached the door again. She inhaled deeply and raised her hand—and the door opened.
The polite greeting she’d rehearsed fled her lips at the sight of RJ. She’d expected him to look rumpled and tired, but he didn’t. Well groomed and wearing a perfectly pressed suit, he looked every inch the business titan his rivals feared.
“Morning, Brooke.” His eyes twinkled with amusement.
“Morning.” The word burst out fast and loud. Somehow he seemed even more gorgeous than usual. Maybe because she knew just how his mouth tasted in a kiss. She struggled to drag her mind back to practical matters. “Did you sleep okay?”
“I slept very well under the circumstances.” He leaned against the door frame, eyes resting on her face. “It wasn’t easy sleeping alone after that kiss.” His deep blue eyes smoldered and his hushed tones carried more than a hint of suggestion.
Brooke bit her lip to stop a huge smile creeping across it. “For me either.” Her admission was a relief. He wasn’t trying to forget the kiss ever happened. “I’m glad you’re feeling better this morning.”
“I took your advice to heart. No sense weakening under pressure when I need all my energy to fight. Onwards and upwards, Brooke.”
“That’s the spirit.” She let the big goofy smile widen her mouth. This was the RJ she’d grown to know and love. “What’s first on the agenda this morning?”
He tilted his head slightly and lowered his voice. “The first thing on my agenda is to secure a date for tonight.”
Brooke’s heart almost stopped. Did he mean with her, or did he intend for her to call some strange woman and…
“Are you free after work this evening?”
“Yes,” she stammered. “Yes, I am.” How cool. Oh well, not like she had an image as a seductress to uphold.
“I’ll make reservations and will pick you up at your place at seven-thirty.”
“Great.” Already her mind spun with worries about what to wear. Her cherished collection of business suits would be too stuffy for dinner and she didn’t have that many—
“I’m off to a meeting and I’ve left a pile of items in your inbox.”
“Great.” Apparently that was the only word left in her vocabulary. “See you later,” she called, as he swept into the elevator.
A date with RJ. Tonight. And she didn’t even have to make the reservation! But she did still have to go through his correspondence and coordinate his schedule, just like any other day.
She felt as if she was stepping onto a board of chutes and ladders. Three steps forward and dinner with RJ leads up the tall ladder! What next? Would she roll a five and plunge to estrangement and unemployment at the bottom of a chute?
With no idea what kind of restaurant RJ would choose, Brooke decided to go smart-casual. She donned a floral patterned dress she’d never worn to work and a cute cashmere shrug she’d found in a boutique walking home from work one day. Her hair was shiny, her complexion clear for once and except for the heightened redness in her cheeks she looked pretty darn good!
Still, she jumped when the doorbell rang. She’d never given RJ her address, but no doubt he could just look in her personnel file. She drew in a breath as she walked across the living room to open the door.
“Hi.” She felt yet another huge goofy grin spread across her face at the sight of RJ, several inches larger than life, as always, standing right there on her doorstep. “Won’t you come in?” She’d spent at least an hour cleaning the place to within an inch of its life.
“Sure.” He smiled, and stepped inside.
“Would you like a martini?” She knew he loved them.
“Why not?” RJ managed to look both classic and hip in a jacket that hung elegantly from his broad shoulders, and loose khakis. He often had the air of an old-time matinee idol, which perfectly matched his bold, aristocratic features and easy confidence. Right now she felt like his leading lady, since her dress had a vintage flair to it.
She mixed the martinis and poured them into long-stemmed glasses while RJ complimented her place.
“Thanks, I like it here.” She’d lived in the two-bedroom condo near Colonial Lake for five years now and was proud of how she’d decorated it. A mix of timeless pieces and funky touches that reflected her personality. “I’m renting right now but I hope the owner will sell to me when the lease is up.” As long as I still have a job by then. She smiled and handed him the drink. “Bottoms up.”
RJ raised his glass. “I never know which end will be up lately.” He took a sip, and nodded his head in approval. “You look gorgeous.” His gaze lingered on her face, then drifted to her neck, and she became agonizingly conscious of the hint of cleavage her dress revealed.
“Thanks.” She tried not to blush. “You don’t look too bad, either.” He’d obviously taken the time to go home and change after work, which touched her. She knew how often he headed out to dinner straight from the office.
“I clean up okay.” He shot her a sultry look. “I’m glad to do something fun for a change. Lately I feel like I’m running from crisis to crisis, either in the company or in the family.”
“Crisis-free here.” She offered him a plate of tiny puff pastries she’d picked up on her way home. “Want something to nibble?”
“Why, sure.” His eyes rested on her face for a second longer than was entirely polite. All the parts of her body that never knew how much they wanted to be nibbled by RJ started to hum and tingle. Then he took a pastry, put it in his mouth and chewed.
Brooke quickly swallowed one herself. She could see his gleaming black Porsche parked outside. She’d never ridden in it before as he used a more practical Audi sedan for work. She could imagine the neighbors whispering and peering through their miniblinds. “Where are we going for dinner?”
“A new place just off King Street. It’s a grill, of sorts, with a Low Country twist to it. A friend told me it’s the best food he’s eaten in ages.”
“Sounds great, but isn’t that kind of central? What if people see us together?” It probably wasn’t the best idea for them to hang out right in the historic district. She’d assumed he’d pick somewhere discreet and out of the way.
“People see us together every day. Let them assume what they like.”
Was he implying that this evening meant nothing so there was no need to worry if anyone saw?
The steady heat in his gaze suggested otherwise. If she didn’t know better she’d suspect he could see right through her dress.
“I’d prefer to go somewhere more private.” Her nerves jangled as she said it. He was her boss, after all, and not used to hearing her opinion on such things. “I’d hate for people to start talking.”
“Let them talk. Everyone in Charleston is talking about the Kincaids right now and it hasn’t killed us yet.” His face darkened.
He must be thinking about his father’s murder. Why was she bickering over restaurants when RJ was under so much pressure already? “All right, I’ll stop worrying. We can always tell them we were testing it out as a place to hold a client party.”
“Always thinking.” He smiled and took another sip of his martini. “That’s a damn good martini but I think we should get going. I made a reservation for eight and it’s the hottest table in town right now.”
Uh-oh. That meant there might be people he knew there. What if people started to gossip about them and things didn’t work out? Her hands shook slightly as she put on her shrug and grabbed her purse. She was hoping for a promotion. What if people thought she was trying to sleep her way to the top? She was hardly from RJ’s usual social circles. She swallowed hard. Still, it was too late to back out now. “I’m ready.” She was heading out to dinner with her boss, for better or worse.
The reclined seats in his black Porsche felt every bit as decadent and inviting as she’d imagined. Excitement raced through her as RJ started the engine. She wouldn’t be able to resist telling her mom about this. She’d be impressed for sure. Then again, maybe she was starting to think too much like her mom. She did not like RJ because he had a Porsche, or a large bank account—she liked him because of his intelligence and kindness.
And his washboard abs and fine backside.
“Why are you smiling?” His eyes twinkled when he glanced at her.
“I think the martini made me giddy.”
“Excellent. I like you giddy.”
He pulled into a parking space in the historic district, then opened her car door before she even had time to unbuckle her seat belt. He took her hand and helped her out, and she felt like royalty stepping onto King Street with RJ Kincaid. Which was funny because she’d been to restaurants here with him before—as part of a business party, of course. Now everything was different.
Her hand stayed inside RJ’s, hot and aware, as they walked down a picturesque side street to a restaurant with a crisp green awning. The maître d’ took them to their table on a veranda overlooking a tiny but perfect garden behind the building, where flowers climbed an old brick wall and water trickled in a lion’s-head fountain. The table was set with a thick, starched tablecloth and heavy silverware, and a bright bouquet of daisies in a cut glass vase.
RJ pulled back her chair, again making her feel like a princess.
“A bottle of Moët, please,” he said to the waiter.
Brooke’s eyes widened. “What are we celebrating?”
“That life goes on.” RJ leaned back in his chair. “And dammit, we’re going to enjoy it no matter what happens.”
“That’s an admirable philosophy.” Along with everyone else in Charleston, he must be wondering what could possibly happen next. His dad was dead and his mom was being held at the county jail under suspicion of murder. Bail had been denied as, with money and connections, she was considered a flight risk.
And there was something he didn’t know.
Brooke had told the police she’d seen Mrs. Kincaid at the office that night. She hadn’t mentioned this fact to RJ. In light of the arrest she wasn’t sure he’d be happy she told the truth. Of course she knew Elizabeth Kincaid was innocent, but still … Guilt trickled uneasily up her spine. She really should tell him she’d seen his mom there. Just to clear the air.
“My dad would have wanted me to hold my head up and keep fighting.” He watched as the waiter poured two tall glasses of sparkling champagne. “And that’s what I intend to do. I spent all afternoon trying to get the D.A.’s office to agree to set bail for Mom, but they’ve refused. And I talked Apex International down from the ledge in between phone calls to the D.A.”
“The toy importer?”
“Yup. Getting ready to jump ship to one of our competitors. I convinced them to stick with us. Told them the Kincaid Group is the most efficient, well-run, cost-effective shipper on the east coast and we intend to stay that way.” He raised his glass and clinked it gently against hers. “Thanks for brightening a dark day.”
His honest expression, weary but still brave and strong, touched something deep inside her. “I’m happy to help in any way I can.” That sounded odd. A bit too businesslike, maybe. But it was hard to step out of her familiar role and embrace this new one, especially when she had no idea what role she’d be in tomorrow. You know I’d do anything for you. She managed not to say it, though she suspected he knew.
“You’re helping already.” That little flame of desire hovered in his pupils and sent a shiver through her. “Your loyalty means a lot to me. You’ve proved I can count on you in a crisis. I don’t know what I would have done without you in the last few weeks.”
His deep voice echoed inside her. Did she really mean that much to him? Her heart fluttered alarmingly.
“I’m glad.”
Further words failed her and she distracted herself by looking down at the menu, which had an array of elegant yet folksy-sounding local dishes. After some hemming and hawing, RJ chose roast pork shoulder with mustard barbeque sauce and sautéed greens. She chose a shrimp dish with a side of grits and an arugula salad.
“It occurs to me that I don’t know too much about you, Brooke Nichols.” RJ raised a brow. “I know you live in Charleston, but other than that you’re a bit of an enigma. You don’t talk about yourself much.”
She inhaled slightly. “There isn’t much to know.” Did he really want to learn that her college quarterback father had resisted all her teenage mother’s attempts to trap him into marriage, and how she’d grown up with a succession of stepfathers? “I was born in Greenville, and I went to high school in Columbia. Mom and I moved here after I graduated and we both adore it.”
“Does your mom live with you?”
“No, she lives in the ‘burbs.” With her latest boyfriend. “I enjoy having my own place.”
“Do you? I find I’m getting tired of living alone. I miss Mom’s cooking.” He smiled, then a shadow of pain passed over his features.
A jolt of guilt tightened her stomach. Was her police interview the reason Elizabeth Kincaid had been arrested? She really should tell RJ about that right now. Did you know I told the police I saw your mom at the scene of the crime? How did you say something like that without sounding accusatory? “I’m sure they’ll let her out soon. They have to know she’s innocent. She’s the sweetest lady I’ve ever met.” She wasn’t exaggerating. And now she knew what Elizabeth Kincaid had put up with over the years. She must have suspected her husband was cheating, at least, even if she hadn’t known about his second family. “I wish we could help them find the real killer.”
“Me, too. Mom’s always been the linchpin of the family. I’m trying to hold it together for everyone but we’re all tense and anxious.”
Her heart swelled. “I envy your large family. It must be reassuring to have siblings you can turn to as well as your parents.”
“Or fight with.” He grinned. “I think we probably argue as much as we get along. Maybe not so much these days, but when we were kids …” He shook his head.
“I never had anybody to fight with, and I’m not sure that’s a good thing. Sibling spats must teach you how to negotiate with people.”
He laughed. “Are you saying I honed my business bargaining skills over the Hot Wheels set I shared with Matt?”
“Quite possibly.” She sipped her champagne, a smile spreading across her lips. RJ was visibly relaxing, his features softening and the lines of worry leaving his face. “Whatever you did as children has made you close as adults. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a family spend so much time together.”
RJ sighed. “I really thought we were the perfect family, but now the entire world knows that was just an illusion.”
“No family is perfect. Yours is still close-knit and loving, even after everything that’s happened.”
The waiter brought their appetizers, fried calamari with a green tomato salsa.
“We’ll get through this. I need to focus on what makes us stronger, not what’s threatening to tear us apart. And somehow you’ve managed to deflect the conversation off yourself again.” He raised a brow. “You’re a mysterious character, Brooke. What do you do when you’re peacefully alone in your private palace?”
She shrugged. It would have been nice to be able to chatter gaily about flamenco dancing sessions and cocktail parties, but she wasn’t one to embroider the truth. She had friends over once or twice a month, but mostly she valued the peace and quiet of her sanctuary after a long day at work. “I read a lot.” She paused to nibble a crispy piece of calamari. “Not very exciting, is it?”
“I guess that depends on how good a book you’re reading.” His blue gaze rested on her face, and she warmed under it. “Sometimes I think I should make more time for quiet pastimes like reading. Might improve my mind.”
She laughed. “I can’t see you sitting still long enough to read a book.”
“Maybe that’s something I need to work on.” He hadn’t touched his food. If anything he seemed transfixed by her, unable to take his eyes off her face. Brooke felt her breathing grow shallow under his intense stare. “I used to go out to our hunting cabin at least once a month with my dad. We’d mellow out and recharge our batteries together. I haven’t been there since he died.”
“Can you still go visit it?”
“It’s mine now. He left it to me in his will.” A shadow passed over his face. The same will that left almost half the company to Jack Sinclair. “It’s been sitting empty since he died.”
“Why don’t you go there?”
He shrugged. “I never went there without Dad. I can’t imagine going alone and I can’t think of anyone I’d want to go with.” His expression changed and his eyes widened slightly. “You. You could come with me.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” She shifted in her chair. Their first date wasn’t even over yet and he was inviting her on an overnight trip? She knew his family never went there just for the day. It was probably a long drive. She’d likely be expected to share a bed with him and so far they’d only kissed once. Already her heart pounded with a mix of excitement and sheer terror.
RJ’s face brightened. “We’ll go this weekend. Just you and me. We’ll get Frankie Deleon’s to pack us some gourmet meals and we’ll spend a weekend in peace.”
“I don’t know anything about hunting.” The idea of killing things made her cringe.
“Don’t worry, we don’t have to really hunt. Dad and I mostly just walked around in the mountains carrying the guns as an excuse. It’s so peaceful up there it seems a crime to pierce the air with a shot.”
She smiled. “That’s a funny image. So there aren’t racks of antlers on the living room wall?”
“There’s one set but we bought it at an antiques auction.” His eyes twinkled. “We call him Uncle Dave. We did sometimes go fishing and eat the fish, though. Fishing was the only time I ever saw Dad sit still for more than a few minutes.”
“I used to fish with my friend June’s family years ago. They’d take a camper to a lake and stay there for a week every summer. I caught a huge rainbow trout once.”
“Excellent. Now we know what we’re doing this weekend.” He rubbed his hands together with enthusiasm. “Nice to have something to look forward to as this promises to be a long week.”
Brooke didn’t know what to say. He’d already planned her weekend without even waiting for a response. Yes, he was her boss, but going fishing on the weekends was not part of her job description. She should be mad at his arrogance.
On the other hand, a weekend in the mountains with RJ … What girl would say no to that?
Her. “I don’t think I should come. I’m sure you have other friends you could invite.” Her gut was telling her to slow this whole train ride before it went off the tracks. “I have … things to do here at home.”
“Are you afraid I’ll take advantage of you, out there in the lonesome woods?” He tilted his head and lifted a brow.
“Yes.” Her blood sizzled at the prospect.
“You’re absolutely right, of course.”
“I think it’s a bit premature.”
“Of course, we’ve only known each other five years.” A dimple appeared in his left cheek, emphasizing his high cheekbones.
“You know what I mean.”
“Sure. One amazing kiss is not enough to plan an entire weekend around.”
She shrugged. “Something like that.”
“How many kisses? Two, three?” He looked impatiently at the expanse of tablecloth between them. Humor twinkled in his eyes.
“Probably somewhere around five.” She fought to keep a smile from her mouth.
“Five years and five kisses.” He looked thoughtful. “Let’s see what we can do before the night is out.”
The handsome waiter whisked their appetizer plates away and settled their mains in front of them while the sommelier poured two glasses of white wine. She’d barely made a dent in her champagne. Maybe that was her problem. She needed to drink a bit more to take the edge off her inhibitions. The whiskey had certainly done wonders for RJ yesterday. On the other hand, the prospect of four more kisses before the evening ended made her light-headed.
She could see the glow of impending victory in RJ’s eyes. She’d become familiar with that look in meetings right when he knew he’d clinched a big deal. RJ hated to lose, and sometimes went after quite small clients just for the satisfaction of beating the competition.
Apparently she was to be his next conquest. Her blood pressure ratcheted up a notch. RJ in motion was hard to stop. “Can you really get away for the weekend with everything that’s going on right now?”
RJ raised a dark brow. “That’s exactly why I need to get away.” He reached out and touched her fingers gently where they sat at the base of her glass. A tiny shiver of arousal ran through her. “And you’re just the distraction I need.”
His voice was husky, thick with the arousal that weighted the air between them. Did he expect her to go home with him tonight? Just what had she gotten herself into here? Him calling her a “distraction” did not entirely bode well for a lifelong commitment.
Then again, she was getting way ahead of herself. And already her lips tingled in anticipation of the second kiss he’d promised. She tried to distract them with a piece of shrimp, but the sauce proved surprisingly spicy and only made things worse. “I suppose some fresh air won’t do either of us any harm.” That sounded lame. She should probably be making suggestive and witty comments. Soon enough RJ would realize he’d made a terrible mistake thinking she was an attractive and desirable woman.
If he even did think that. Maybe it was more of an “any port in the storm” thing. Even your assistant started to look good when your entire world was falling apart.
“What are you thinking about?” RJ peered into her eyes, mischief sparkling in his own blue depths.
“Just wondering where this evening is heading.” The truth seemed as good a response as any other.
RJ’s mouth broadened into a sensual smile. “Somewhere beautiful.”
It was dark when they parked near Waterfront Park and strolled along the promenade looking out at the lights reflected on the dark water. They were dangerously close to RJ’s apartment, or at least she suspected so, but he’d shown no signs of trying to take her home. He hadn’t even tried to kiss her.
Her skin craved his touch and each time she hoped for it and didn’t get it, the longing only grew more bone-deep. Five years of suppressed yearning were unleashed by one kiss, and if she didn’t get another kiss soon she might just burst into flame.
Moonlight mingled with the streetlights to illuminate RJ’s dramatic features. “So your mom is your only real family?”
“Since my Gran died five years ago, yes.” RJ had been plumbing her for information all evening. Not in an unkind way. He seemed genuinely curious.
“Did you ever want siblings?”
“All the time,” she admitted. “When I was little I wished for a sister to share my dolls with. Then when I was a teenager I wished I had a brother to bring home handsome friends.”
He chuckled. “My sisters weren’t shy about asking me to do just that. But I bet you managed fine, anyway.”
He caressed her with another one of those lingering glances that made her feel like a supermodel. No need for him to know her last date had been nearly a year ago. Since her best friend got married she hadn’t been out much at night and she knew better than to have an affair with someone at the office.
Until now …
He stepped toward her and slid his arms around her hips. Her breasts stirred inside her dress as he pulled her close. Her lips parted and her hands rose to the soft wool of his jacket. She ached for his kiss, a long, deep ache that rose inside her and pulled her closer into his embrace. When his lips finally met hers sensation sparkled through her. All day she’d dreamed of this moment, craved and hoped for it, despite all her misgivings. RJ’s arms around her made her feel safe, protected and adored. He kissed with exquisite gentleness, touching her lips gently then pulling back, letting the very tip of his tongue touch hers, teasing and tasting her until she was in a frenzy of arousal. It took all her strength not to writhe against him in full view of the other people enjoying the breezy moonlit night.
“Yes, it’s a good idea.” RJ’s words surprised her. “Us kissing.” They’d barely pulled apart and she hadn’t even had time for doubts to creep back into her consciousness. No doubt he was trying to preempt them.
“Certainly feels like one.” A silly smile plastered itself across her face. A sense of euphoria suffused her entire body, and she’d only had two glasses of wine so she couldn’t even blame the alcohol.
She was high on RJ.
His lips touched hers again, and again her synapses lit up like a Christmas tree. She’d never experienced such a sharp physical reaction to a simple kiss. It was a full-body experience. By the time he pulled gently back she was sure she’d broken out in a sweat.
Already her lips itched to meet his again. But if she gave him all five kisses, was she agreeing to the weekend away? “I really should get home now.”
“No way.” His hands held her steady. “Five years, five kisses.”
“There’s nothing about kisses in my employment contract.” She attempted to look fierce.
“There wouldn’t be, since we don’t use an employment contract.” That naughty dimple appeared again as he lowered his lips to hers. Brooke’s lips parted instinctively, and a tantalizing tip of his tongue probed her mouth, sending a shiver of suggestion down her spine. Her knees wobbled and she was forced to hold him tighter. With her pressed against his hard chest, kiss number three was broken only by a quiet whisper. “Brooke, why did we wait so long?”
She didn’t answer. Boring explanations about her long-term career prospects had no place in this electric moment. Kiss number four crept up on them and her eyes shut tight as sensation swept through her. RJ’s hard chest felt like a safe foundation to lean on, so she let the world drift away and lost herself in his kiss. An hour could have passed before their lips finally pulled apart, she had no idea.
The streetlights, even the reflected glow from the water, seemed painfully bright when she opened her eyes.
“I expect you’re wondering if I’m going to ask you back to my apartment.” RJ looked down at her, arms still wrapped around her, holding her close.
The thought did cross my mind. She kept her mouth closed, though. She still had no idea what she’d reply if he did ask.
“I’m not.”
A tiny frisson of disappointment cascaded through her. Had this evening led him to decide he was no longer interested in her? Maybe he just liked talking to her and didn’t want to take it further. Perhaps those kisses that lit her whole body on fire had simply been a series of tests that she’d failed.
“I have the utmost respect for you, Brooke.” His expression was serious.
Her heart sank further. Was this the “you’re too valuable an employee for me to fool around with” speech?
“I know you’re a lady and would be offended if I asked you in on our first date.” He moved his hands until they were over hers. “And I’m still enough of a gentleman to resist the temptation.”
His fingers wove into hers and the full force of that temptation rushed through her. He was taking it slow because he respected her. Somehow that truly touched her.
He leaned in until she could inhale his enticing male scent. “But I’m not letting you go without one last kiss.”
Relief swept through her as their lips pressed together. He wasn’t rejecting her. She held him tight and kissed him back with passion.
“And I’m already anticipating the pleasure of an entire weekend with you, so asking for tonight as well would be greedy.”
Misgivings still crept in her veins. An entire weekend was a long time. If things got out of hand there would be no turning back. Though likely it was already too late to return to their normal workaday existence. “What should I bring?” Would she need waders, or an evening gown? Or both?
“Just yourself. The house is fully stocked for entertaining guests so there’s loads of extra gear there.”
“Will anyone else be there?” What if other Kincaid siblings were around to witness her liaison with RJ? She cringed at the thought of them laughing behind her back, or exchanging shocked whispers.
“I certainly hope not.” RJ pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “Since the house is mine now and I haven’t invited anyone but you we should have the whole two hundred acres to ourselves.”
Two hundred acres. It must be in the middle of nowhere. Of course that was probably the point with hunting cabins. Less chance of shooting one of the neighbors. She and RJ would have more than enough privacy to do anything they liked.
Which reminded her she was arm in arm with him in a popular spot in downtown Charleston. Did she really want coworkers or his family to see them kissing? They might think she was trying to sleep her way to a promotion. Or even take advantage of him when he was under stress. “I think it’s time for me to go home. I have to work tomorrow—and so do you in case you’ve forgotten.” It was nearly eleven last time she’d checked.
“I don’t have to worry. My capable assistant handles everything for me while I take long lunches.”
Brooke made a mock gasp. “I’ll have to schedule some of those investor conferences you so look forward to. Perhaps some early breakfast meetings.”
“Now you’re scaring me. I’ll do my best to roll in after a late breakfast.”
His cocky attitude didn’t annoy her. In fact she was proud he could count on her to keep his work life on track. He looked so relaxed and happy right now you’d never guess his family was in turmoil. Maybe she could take some credit for that, as well.
A warm sense of satisfaction bloomed inside her, along with the delicious arousal RJ had stirred. If things went well this weekend, who knew what the future might hold?

Three
“You’re going to spend the weekend in the woods with your boss?” Her friend Evie had been speechless for a few seconds. Now apparently she’d recovered.
Brooke moved the phone back closer to her ear again. “He’s quite different than I thought. Much more sensitive.”
“I don’t care how sensitive he is. What will happen when he gets bored with you?”
“Ouch.” Brooke walked across her apartment. “Am I that dull? You’ve been friends with me for nearly eight years.”
“You know what I mean. Most men, especially in his position, just want to fool around and have fun, and after a few dates they’re ready for someone new. Didn’t you tell me yourself that he’s a bit of a Casanova?”
“Sure, he used to date a lot, but this big family scandal has made him more serious.” He hadn’t been going out much lately. At least not that she knew of.
“So he’s turned into the white picket fence type and is looking for a nice, quiet girl to settle down with.”
“Maybe he is.”
“You could be right, but what if he isn’t? You’ve put five years into the company. Didn’t you say something about a management position?”
“I applied to be the events coordinator but I didn’t get it.” Yes, it smarted a little, especially since the woman they’d hired from outside was more than a bit flaky. “I just have to keep trying.”
“And you think an affair with your boss will help?”
“It’s not an affair yet. All we’ve done is kiss.”
“After a weekend in the woods it will be an affair. Do you genuinely believe he’ll decide you’re the girl of his dreams and ask you to marry him?”
Brooke took in a breath. “Is it a crime to dream? You’re married.”
“To the guy in the next cubicle, not the one at the head of the boardroom table. I care about you, Brooke, and I know how much your job at Kincaid means to you. It really is a place where you could take your career to the next level and I don’t want to see you throw that away for a quick sympathy fling.”
“I can always find a job somewhere else.”
“In this economy? I’m being very careful with the job I have as there’s not a lot out there.”
“You’re so supportive.” Her joy had deflated. One minute she’d been swanning around the air castles of her mind as Mrs. RJ Kincaid. Then the castle went poof and she was now single again and jobless, too. “Maybe I want to have some fun.”
Evie sighed. “I miss our nights out together. I know being married is no reason to stay in every night, but we have our hands full with this renovation project right now and—”
Brooke laughed. “I wasn’t trying to guilt trip you into a night on the town with me. I know it sounds crazy but the roller coaster has already left the station. I can’t go back to before the kiss, so I might as well enjoy the ride and hope for the best.”
“My knuckles are turning white just thinking about it. And I want to hear all the details on Monday.”
RJ left his keys and wallet on the tray and walked through the security machines at the detention center. His entire body reacted to the oppressive atmosphere of the building. A place where hardened criminals were locked up awaiting trial, and where his kind and gentle mother was forced to suffer their company.
A silent guard led him to a private interview room. His lawyer had apparently gone to great trouble to arrange a face-to-face meeting with his mom, otherwise he could only speak to her from the lobby over a video link. The guard opened the door to a small room with a metal desk and two chairs.
She looked tiny, sitting alone at the desk, dressed in the regulation jumpsuit. He walked toward her, unable to govern his features into any kind of polite greeting. “Mom.” He took her in his arms and held her tight. She seemed so frail and helpless, not at all the steel magnolia he’d always proudly bragged about.
“No contact.” He’d forgotten the no touching rule, and the gruff voice behind him reminded him. With great reluctance he pulled back his arms.
“I won’t do it again.” He turned to the guard. “Can we be alone for a few minutes?”
“I’ll be standing right here, watching.” The tall, older man gestured to a square of window in the door, then slipped outside.
His mom’s face was pale and drawn, with tiny blue shadows under her expressive eyes. Her trademark auburn hair was slicked back in a way that only made her look more gaunt and slender.
“I’m trying everything to get you out of here.”
“I know.” The barest hint of a smile lit her eyes. “My lawyer says you won’t even let him sleep.”
“He can sleep later, once you’re free. I’m going to see the D.A. again this afternoon, before I go away for the weekend.”
“Are you going to the lodge?” Her eyes brightened. He nodded. “I wondered how long it would take before you went there again. I know how much you love it up in the mountains. Who’s going with you?”
“Brooke.” Why not tell the truth? Anticipation rose in his veins like sap in the spring. He couldn’t wait to be alone with Brooke on that peaceful mountainside. He could already picture sunbeams picking out gold in her hair, and those soft green eyes gazing at the majestic views. She’d love it there. He knew she would.
“Your assistant?” His mom’s shocked response drew him from his reverie. Her pale eyebrows lacked their usual flourish of pencil, but he still saw them rise.
“Yes. She and I … She’s been a great help to me lately.” His brain filled almost to bursting with a desire to tell his mom all about his newfound relationship with Brooke. Brooke was sweet and kind as well as beautiful and he was sure his mom would love her. Still, he could tell his mom was shocked by the idea of him dating his own assistant and somehow it seemed premature, so he held his tongue.
She nodded. “She seems a bright girl, and very pretty. I hope you have a lovely time. You certainly deserve a break and some fresh air. I know how hard you’ve been working.”
“Thanks, Mom.” His chest tightened. How sweet she was to wish him a good weekend when she’d be stuck in here. Anger and frustration raged inside him again. “Why are they holding you? No one will explain. I can’t understand why they won’t let you out on bail. I had a hell of a time even coming to see you in person.”
His mom glanced around the room. “Sit down, will you.” She gestured politely as if inviting him to take up residence in one of her beautifully upholstered Liberty print chairs at home, not a scarred metal folding chair.
RJ sat.
She leaned toward him. “They know I was in the office on the night … the night your dad was shot.” Her voice faded on the last word and he saw pain flash in her eyes.
“You were there?” He kept his voice as hushed as possible.
“I was.” Her lips closed tightly for a second, draining of blood. “I brought him a plate of food as he’d said he’d be home late.”
RJ frowned. “They didn’t say any food had been found.”
She shook her head. “He didn’t want it so I took it home with me.” She let out a sigh, which rippled through her body as a visible shiver. “I know it seems odd, me bringing him dinner. I only did it that night as I was worried your dad had been so distant, like he was troubled by something. I’d been short with him the night before and I wanted to show him I cared.”
“Dad knew you cared about him.” RJ’s heart filled with red-hot rage that his dad had caused her so much pain by carrying on with another woman. “If anything, he didn’t deserve you.”
Her eyes filled with tears, but she managed to blink them back. “I do miss your father, even after all that’s happened.”
“Of course you do.” He took her hands in his. They were cold and bony, and he chafed them lightly, trying to warm them. “But you bringing dinner doesn’t make you a murderer.”
“It makes me a murder suspect.”
RJ frowned. Something was seriously off here. “But how did the police know you were there?” The front desk didn’t bother logging family members or employees, who were allowed to come and go as they pleased.
“Someone saw me.”
“Who?” What kind of person would finger his mom at the crime scene?
She hesitated. Looked away. “Does it really matter? I don’t even remember if anyone saw me. As I said, I was there.”
“The accusations still don’t make sense. You have no motivation to kill Dad. For one thing, you were as much in the dark as the rest of us about Angela and her sons.” The words soured in his mouth. “I wish to God none of us had ever found out.”
She pulled her hands back and placed them in her lap. “I have a confession to make, RJ.”
RJ’s eyes widened. “What?” Was she going to admit to killing his dad? His stomach roiled.
“I did know about Angela.” Her eyes were dry, her expression composed. “I’d known for some years. Ever since I found an earlier version of Reginald’s will in his desk while looking for a calculator.”
RJ swallowed. So his suspicion was correct. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Your father and I had words, but he convinced me to stay with him for the sake of the family. The reputation, the company, you know how important all that was to him.” She smoothed back her hair. “And to me.”
He blinked, unable to process this. “So you were sitting there with us at family dinners, week after week, and you never breathed a word to anyone?”
Her head hung slightly, and lines of pain formed around her eyes. “Your father and I were married for a very long time. There was a lot of history there. Maybe too much to throw away for an affair that began so long ago.”
“But that was still continuing, unless I understand wrong.”
He watched his mom’s throat move as she swallowed. “You’re not wrong. Reginald loved Angela.” It took visible effort for her gaze to meet his, and he fought the urge to take her in his arms again. Her rigid posture told him to keep his distance. “He loved me, too.” A wry smile tugged at her lips. “He was a man with a lot of love to give.”
“That’s one way of looking at it, though I’d like the opportunity to give him a piece of my mind.” He realized his hands were clenched into fists, and he released them. “I know you didn’t kill him.” He had to say it, because he had thought it for that split second after she announced a confession, and he needed to clear the air.
“Of course I didn’t, but the police and the courts don’t know that, and I don’t have an alibi for the time of the murder.”
“We need to find out who really did it. Do you have any suspicions?”
She shook her head. “Trust me, if I had even the slightest inkling, I’d tell everyone I know.”
RJ glanced around the grim room. “This place is a nightmare.” He remembered the bag he’d brought with him. “I brought you some books. Flannery O’Connor, William Faulkner. Lily said you’d want something more cheery, but I wasn’t so sure. They put them through the metal detector downstairs. Apparently razor-sharp wit doesn’t show up on the screen.”
She smiled, and peered into the offered paper bag. “RJ, you’re so thoughtful. And you’re right, I feel like reading about experiences darker than my own.” She sighed. “Hopefully I won’t have time to read them all.”
“Not if I can help it.”
“I’ve never flown in a small plane.” Brooke’s hands trembled as she buckled the seat belt in the Kincaid jet. “Couldn’t we drive there?” Her wide green eyes implored him.
A protective instinct surged inside RJ and he took hold of her hand. “It’s almost 150 miles away, near Gatlinburg, Tennessee. We’ll be fine.” Strange to see ever-capable Brooke looking worried. He squeezed her trembling fingers gently to reassure her. “At least we have a professional pilot today. My dad used to fly it himself sometimes and while he claimed military flying experience, I never saw any kind of license.”
“Scary!”
“Tell me about it. I even toyed with getting a license myself so I’d be able to take over in an emergency. One time we got caught in a wind shear coming out of the mountains, but Dad handled it like a pro.” His chest tightened as a wave of sadness swept through him. He still couldn’t believe that he’d never see his dad again. Never hear his chesty laugh or another tall tale about his days in Special Ops.
“You’re not making me feel better.”
“We’ll be fine.” He lifted his arm and placed it around her shoulder. Her soft floral scent filled his nostrils. Soon they’d be alone together in the mountains. The fresh air would lift the cares off both of their shoulders. He couldn’t wait to hear her infectious laugh echo off the wooded hillsides, or see the morning sun sparkle in her lovely eyes. And then there would be the nights … He’d instructed the caretaker to put the best fresh linen on the beds—he planned to offer her one for herself, then tempt her out of it. The prospect of Brooke’s lush body writhing under those sheets made his pulse quicken.
Yes, she was his assistant. Doubts did force their way to the forefront of his consciousness from time to time. Mixing business and pleasure was always risky, and in a family business it could be downright explosive. His father had warned all of them to keep their personal affairs out of the office and RJ had never had an affair with an employee before, despite considerable temptation over the years. Funnily enough he’d never seen Brooke in that way until their whiskey-flavored kiss in his office. She’d been his right-hand woman, his trusted friend, his rock—but their kiss had opened up a new world of possibilities.
Now he knew his assistant was a sensual woman, with passion flickering behind the jade of her eyes and excited breaths quickening in her lovely chest when he looked at her, the temptation was irresistible. He’d never have dreamed anything could take his mind off the hailstorm of disaster raining down on the Kincaid family over the last few months, but when he was with Brooke, all his burdens seemed lighter. It was such a relief to be with someone whom he could totally trust.
He heard Brooke’s breath catch as the plane lifted off the runway, but she soon relaxed as they rose high over the Charleston suburbs, heading toward the sunset and the distant shadow of the mountains. If only they could fly away from all his troubles and worries. Those were hitchhiking along, but with Brooke by his side they’d stay in check.
“How’s your mom doing?” Brooke’s soft question revealed her natural empathy.
“She’s hanging in there. She’s a brave woman and she doesn’t want us to worry. I visited her this afternoon and took her some books she wanted. I told her we’re doing everything we can to get her out. The police have been pretty closemouthed so I hired a private investigator to work full-time on the case, and he’s going to work with Nikki Thomas, our own corporate investigator. The lawyers are still trying to negotiate bail. They keep promising she’ll be released but it gets shot down at the last moment. Apparently someone saw her in the office that night. Hey, are you okay?”
Brooke’s face had turned so pale, even her lips lost color. “Sure, just a little queasy. I’ll be okay.”
He squeezed her hand. It was easy to dismiss your own problems, but you couldn’t always help the ones you cared about. Lately that made him feel powerless, an unfamiliar experience he hated. At least he could show Brooke a glorious and relaxing weekend in the country. She deserved the best of everything and he intended to give it to her.
Brooke gripped his hand tightly during their descent into the airport at Gatlinburg, then exhaled with relief as the plane taxied to a halt.
“See? You survived.”
“Only just. And my nails have probably left permanent scars on your hand.”
“I’ll wear them with pride.”
RJ was pleased to see the caretaker had dropped the familiar black Suburban off at the airport then discreetly disappeared. The first sign that his plans were going smoothly. He’d told the caretaker he didn’t need any staff on hand, as he suspected Brooke might be spooked by the presence of other people. Much better that they enjoy peace and privacy.
A now-familiar pang of grief hit him as he climbed behind the wheel. His dad usually drove, maintaining the familiar patterns of father-and-son even though RJ had been driving for nearly twenty years. “Dad loved it up here. He always said the whole world fell away if you got high enough up into the mountains.”
“It’s beautiful. The light is different here.” That light illuminated Brooke’s hair and her delicate profile as she looked out the window. For a split second he longed to press his lips to hers and lose himself in a kiss. Instead he started the engine.
“Dad wrote me a letter when he made his will.” He frowned. He’d never spoken to anyone else about it. “Said he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d live and he wanted to make sure the lodge would be mine.”
“Oh.” Brooke turned sharply, shock written on her face. “Sounds like he almost knew he was going to die.”
“He never said a word to anyone.” He shook his head. “His lawyers told me he redrew his will every few years, so they didn’t think much of it. He included letters each time. But when he died there was one for everyone in the family … except my mom.”
“Did he leave any hints of who he suspected?”
“That is odd. Nothing I could figure out. He does mention his other family that none of us knew about. Well, except Mom.”
“Your mom knew about his other woman and her children?”
RJ swallowed. “Apparently so. She didn’t say anything to us. She learned about them while he was writing his will. She found a copy in his desk.” It was good to get that awkward truth off his chest. He knew he could trust Brooke not to tell anyone. “She didn’t want any of us to know.”
“Is that why police think she has motive?”
“I suppose they think she wanted revenge.” He heard Brooke’s intake of breath. Did she think it was possible that his mom could wield a gun against her husband of nearly four decades? “You do know she’s innocent.”
“Yes, of course.” The color had fled her cheeks again. “It’s just a shame she had to find out that way.”
Brooke seemed distracted, staring hard out the window, not even noticing the bait and tackle shop and the quaint country inn he’d intended to show her.
“I brought Dad’s letter with me because he mentions something in the lodge.” He paused while a big truck crossed at the intersection ahead. “Something else he wanted me to have.”
“An object?”
“I don’t know. It’s rather mysterious. He said to look in the third drawer down, but he didn’t say what piece of furniture.”
“Hmm. I guess you’ll just have to open every third drawer down in the house, and hope for the best.”
He didn’t mention the other things his dad had said in the letter. For now those were between Reginald Kincaid, Sr., and his namesake, and maybe it was better that no one else knew about them.
Brooke was lost for words when they pulled up at the lodge. Then again, what had she expected, a shack with an outside toilet? This was a Kincaid residence. The vast log home rose up out of the surrounding woodlands, high gables braced with chiseled beams and walls of windows reflecting the sunset. RJ strode up the steps and unlocked the impressive double doors, then ushered her inside.
Golden sunlight illuminated the foyer from all directions. RJ put down their bags then walked through a door in the far wall. “Dad named it Great Oak Lodge. Come see why we built the house here.”
Brooke followed him into another grand room, decorated in an updated, minimalist interpretation of hunting-lodge chic: pale sofas with muted plaid accents, a painting of a stag and an impressive stone fireplace. The last rays of sunlight blazing in through a wall of windows largely obscured the view, until RJ opened a pair of patio doors and she saw an endless vista of tree-cloaked hills.
She walked out and stood beside him. There were no signs of civilization at all, just peaks and valleys filled with more trees. “It feels like we’re on top of the world.”
“Maybe we are.” He stepped behind her and slid his arms around her waist. Her belly shimmered with arousal. They hadn’t kissed since their date two nights ago, and on the plane she’d been too nervous to think much about kissing. Or any of the things that might follow.
RJ bent his head and pressed his lips to her neck. “You smell sensational.” Excitement trickled through her, peppered with anxiety about where this was all going. Now his hot breath warmed her ear, making her shiver with anticipation.
“Shouldn’t we put our bags away?” She could hardly believe that was her voice interrupting the sensual moment.
RJ chuckled. “Trying to delay the inevitable?”
“Just being practical. That’s why you hired me.” Ouch. Why did she have to remind him—and herself—that she was his employee?
“Let’s leave the office at the office.” RJ still held her tight in his embrace, and his mouth had moved barely an inch from her skin. “Do you think any of those trees care about memos and meetings and deadlines? It’s a whole different world up here. Breathe in some fresh mountain air.”
“I think I am.” Surely if she wasn’t she’d have passed out by now. Which was a distinct possibility the way RJ was tantalizing her earlobe with his tongue and teeth.
“Mountain air is restorative. Draw it all the way to the bottom of your lungs.”
She drew a breath deep down into her belly the way she’d learned in yoga class. Evening cool, scented with pine and fresh soil, the rich air filled her lungs, and she exhaled with gusto. “That does feel good.”
“Standing up here restores perspective. Out here it seems like time doesn’t exist—the sun rises and sets and everything stays the same except the slow change of the seasons.”
“RJ, you’re turning out to have more dimensions than I expected.”
“And you’ve known me five years already. Just shows how important it is to step out of context. Now kiss me.”
Before she could protest he spun her around and pressed his lips firmly to hers. Her eyes slid shut and her hands rose to his shoulders. The kiss was delicious, golden and heady as the sunset warming their skin. The slight stubble on RJ’s chin tickled her and she felt his eyelashes flutter against her cheeks as he deepened the kiss.
She hugged him, enjoying the closeness she’d craved, letting go of her worries and losing herself in the powerful sensation of his strong arms around her waist, holding her tight.
When they finally pulled apart, by only a feather’s depth, his eyes sparkled and she knew hers did, too. Happiness swelled in her chest and the moment felt so perfect.
“You’re a very beautiful woman, Brooke. The sunset suits you.”
“Maybe I should wear it every day.”
“Most definitely. And I have a feeling that sunrise will become you, as well.”
“I guess we’ll have to get up early and find out.” A tiny blade of anxiety poked her stomach. By morning they would have slept together.
Or would they?
After they disentangled themselves from each other’s arms, RJ took her to a bedroom with panoramic views and invited her to unpack. Then he disappeared. Maybe they weren’t going to sleep together at all. The closet was empty, except for a few hangers and a plain white terry bathrobe. The room had an adjoining bath, with freshly unwrapped soap and tiny bottles of expensive Kiehl’s shampoo and conditioner. The rustic yet elegant bentwood bed was covered with a thick, soft duvet and the whole room was decorated in neutral colors that complemented the jaw-dropping view out the window. It was like being in a very high-end hotel.
Brooke hung her few items in the cavernous closet, then changed out of her work suit into her favorite jeans and a green shirt that highlighted her eyes. The carpets were soft pure wool, so she left her feet bare to better enjoy them and show off her rather daring jade-green toenails.
She peered out into the hallway. She followed the sound of whistling and found RJ in a similarly spacious bedroom, with a large bed made of rustic planks, checking his phone. “Settled in?”
“Perfectly.” There was his bag, half-unpacked, on top of a pine chest of drawers. So they were sleeping in separate bedrooms. She should be relieved, but instead she felt disappointed. Maybe she was hoping for a whirlwind romance and he just planned to cast some flies and kick back in the sunshine.
“I’ve never seen you in jeans before.” His eyes roamed down her legs, heating her skin through the denim. “Clearly, I’ve been missing out.”
“I’ve never seen you in jeans before, either.” She smiled, glancing at the pair peeking out of his duffel bag.
“Mine don’t hug me quite the way yours do.” A dimple played in his cheek.
“Shame.” A sudden vision of RJ’s body flashed in her mind. Even in his suit—the jacket hung over a corner of the wardrobe door and his sleeves were rolled up—you could see he was built and muscular. He played a lot of tennis and squash and sailed competitively. No doubt his muscles were bronzed by all that time in the sun. Hopefully soon she’d get to compare her imagination to reality.
If that was really a good idea.
“Are you hungry?” RJ’s expression suggested he wanted for something entirely different than food.
“I am. All that shaking with terror on the flight built up an appetite.”
“Good, because I’m making dinner.”
Her eyes widened. RJ Kincaid in front of a stove?
“Don’t look so shocked. You should know by now that I’m a man of many talents.”
“I’m impressed.”
“One of my talents is delegating to skilled professionals.” He strode out of the room, leaving his phone on the bed. “Frankie Deleon owns the best restaurant in town and this afternoon I had the fridge stocked with provisions.” She followed him into a bright kitchen with gleaming professional quality appliances. He pulled open one door on the fridge. The inside revealed a collection of smart earthenware dishes, each labeled with a Post-it note. “Let’s see, jambalaya, baby back ribs, black-eyed peas and greens—hey, those need actual cooking. Poached salmon, sesame noodles.” He moved a dish aside to reach behind it. “Macaroni and cheese, rice salad, green salad, beet and goat cheese salad … Where do you want to start?”
Brooke’s mouth was already watering. She could get used to this Kincaid lifestyle. “It all sounds sensational. What are you in the mood for?”
His blue gaze settled on her face and she read her answer loud and clear. A smile crept across her mouth as her nipples tightened under her green shirt.
“You decide.”
A challenge. She knew RJ liked people who could think on their feet and make executive decisions. “Ribs with sesame noodles and green salad.”
“I like.” RJ pulled the containers from the shelves and placed them on a butcher-block island large enough to have its own sink. Brooke turned on one of the stainless steel ovens, and RJ pulled some fine china dishes from one of the cabinets. They picked a chilled white wine to sip while waiting for the ribs to bake.
“Did you check the drawers yet?”
RJ looked up from the bottle opener. “What drawers?”
“The one mentioned in your dad’s letter.” Maybe that was too personal. He probably wanted to search for the item alone.
He looked back down at the bottle. “I’m not sure I’m ready yet. I still hardly believe he’s gone.”
“I can’t imagine what a shock it must have been.”
“I keep expecting him to walk around the corner and say it was all an elaborate hoax.” He gestured toward a wing-backed red chair in the great room adjoining the kitchen. “That was his favorite chair. I feel like he’s going to get up out of it and rib me for not catching any fish yet this year.”
The cork popped out with force, almost making Brooke jump. “I know he’s proud of you for how you’re handling things.”
RJ nodded. “He’s got to be watching from somewhere.”
She fought an urge to glance over her shoulder. She wasn’t sure she wanted RJ’s dad watching the things she hoped to get up to with him tonight. Then again, maybe she should think more about how this would look to all the other people around them. What would RJ’s siblings think of her spending the weekend with him? She worked closely with his brother Matthew in the office—would she be able to look him in the eye on Monday? And what about his mom? Would she see sleeping with his assistant as somehow beneath a Kincaid?
Of course Elizabeth Kincaid had much bigger problems to worry about right now. Partly due to information that she, Brooke Nichols, had provided to the police. She really needed to get that off her chest. Maybe now was a good time. She could casually say she’d seen his mom in the building and then … No. Better to say the police had interviewed her and she just happened to mention—
“I’m glad you’re here with me.” RJ’s soft voice jolted her from her fevered ruminations. He handed her a cool glass of clear white wine and she took a hasty sip. The moment for telling him had passed. Now he was getting romantic and she’d ruin it all if she said anything. “I’ve been wanting to come up here for a while, but didn’t know how I’d feel.”
“How do you feel?” She squeezed her guilt back down. He wanted a relaxing weekend, not more to worry about. It was probably better if she didn’t mention it until they were back in the everyday world of Charleston.
“Okay. It’s as beautiful as ever, peaceful and a perfect escape from reality.”
“Can you ever really escape from reality?” Somehow it kept sneaking back into her consciousness.
“Sure.” He smiled. “You file it away in a drawer.”
“The third drawer down, perhaps?”
“Maybe that one, maybe another. Maybe more than one.” He raised a brow. “Then you lock it and lose the key until some later date.”
“That does not sound like the RJ I know.”
He laughed. “It doesn’t, does it? Maybe I’m trying to change.”
“I don’t think you should change.” She said it in earnest, then wondered if she’d revealed too much about herself. “You’re up-front and honest. You tackle things head-on and don’t beat around the bush or try to people-please.”
“And you’ve been the victim, more often than not.”
“I’d much rather have you tell me what you think than have to guess it.”
“I suppose that’s one thing I got from my dad.” His expression darkened. “Or I thought I did. He was blunt and truthful, and I never doubted a word he said.” He swirled his glass of wine and peered into its depths. “Now I can see I should have been wary of all the things he left unsaid. Maybe you can never really know anyone.”
“I don’t suppose you can, but most people don’t have secret families, so I don’t think you could have seen it coming.” It was hard to know what to say without overstepping the mark.
“No? My mom knew about them, and she kept quiet, too.”
“She was probably trying to protect you from pain.”
“Instead, she accidentally set herself up as a possible murderer.” He shook his head and took a swig from his wine. “There’s no justice in this world.”
Brooke’s stomach clenched. She hated to see RJ sounding so bitter. He was usually the most upbeat and positive person she knew. “There will be justice, but it might take some time.”
“I wish I believed you. How can there be justice in a world where the Kincaid Group, the company I’ve devoted my working life to, is now forty-five percent owned by a half brother—” he said the word with a growl “—that I never knew existed.” He looked up at her, eyes cold. “And who despises my entire family and the company he’s just been handed.”
Brooke put her wineglass down on the island. “It’s all very strange and hard to understand right now.” How could his father have been so cruel as to take away the company RJ saw as his birthright and hand it to an unknown rival?
“You know what?” RJ’s voice was low with anger. “I do want to see what’s in that third drawer. I want to see exactly what Dad wrote that would help me to understand why he stopped seeing me as his eldest son and heir.” He slammed open the third drawer down on one side of the kitchen island. “Napkins and napkin rings. Can you see the significance?”
Brooke swallowed. She wanted to laugh, just to ease the tension, but it wasn’t funny. “Did he have a desk?”
“Yes, there’s a study.” He strode from the room. Brooke glanced at the oven and saw the ribs still needed a few minutes. Always the trusty assistant, she followed him.
RJ marched into a bright study with cathedral ceilings and a leather-topped desk. “Ha. Two rows of three drawers.” He pulled open one bottom drawer and rifled through the interior. “Bullet casings, ballpoint pens, paper clips, a broken golf tee.” He slammed it and pulled open the other. “Reginald Kincaid letterhead and matching envelopes.” He lifted the papers. “What’s this?” He pulled out a manila envelope. “It has his name on the front. Or my name—since according to my birth certificate I’m Reginald Kincaid, as well.” The envelope was sealed. Thick too, like it had a wad of papers, or even an object. “It’s heavy.”
“Are you going to open it?”
RJ hesitated, weighing it in his hand. The oven timer beeped in the kitchen.

Four
“I’ll go check the ribs.” Brooke seemed relieved at the excuse to leave him alone. Once she’d gone, RJ glanced down at the envelope in his hands. The writing was his father’s familiar script, neat and commanding. He slid a finger under the sealed flap and ripped the paper carefully, aware he was frowning.
Then he lowered the open envelope to the desktop and eased the contents out onto the desk. Papers, mostly, a pair of cuff links, a ring he’d never seen his dad wear and some old photographs.
“They’re done. I’ll just toss the salad,” called Brooke from the kitchen.
“Great.” What was this envelope of things supposed to mean? He picked up the ring and looked at the design. Gold with a flat top, it was shaped almost like a class ring. As he stared at the shield he realized it was probably from his dad’s time in special forces. He recognized the bird holding a lightning bolt. The ring was worn, the gold scratched by use, but he didn’t remember ever seeing it on his dad’s finger. A relic from another lifetime, the lifetime in which Angela had been the woman he loved—and unbeknownst to him, the mother of his firstborn son.
“It’s ready.” Brooke’s voice tugged him back to the present.
There was a lovely woman waiting for him in the other room, and painful memories could wait. He pushed the items back into the envelope and slid them into the same drawer. “Coming.”
Brooke looked so beautiful standing silhouetted against the last rays of light. Her lush body beckoned to him, promising an evening filled with pleasure. Much better to tuck all that other stuff away in a drawer for now.
“Looks delicious.” He stared directly at her as he said it.
A pretty smile played around her pink mouth. “It sure does. Where do you want to eat?”
“There’s a table on the deck.” He served the ribs onto two plates, and Brooke spooned out the salad and noodles. He grabbed cutlery from a drawer, picked up the wine and glasses with one hand, and Brooke brought the plates. The last rays of sun lit the polished wood table and chairs in a fiery reddish gold. He lit the decorative hurricane lamps with the BBQ lighter, and topped up their wine.
“Okay, this really is paradise.” Brooke couldn’t stop staring at the view. “This must be the only house for miles around.”
“There are cabins and people out there, they’re just hidden by the trees.”
“The trees are kind to cloak everyone in peace and privacy.” Her sweet smile made his chest fill with emotion.
“They’re in charge around here. Dad always said that coming up to the mountains put everything into perspective. Problems shrink away and so does the human ego.”
Brooke laughed. “I can’t picture your father saying that.”
“He could be quite introspective when the mood caught him.” He could tell Brooke was rather intrigued by the new side of him she’d seen lately. Usually he didn’t think too much about the impression he made on people, but right now it pleased him to show Brooke he wasn’t just a hard-partying playboy. “It’s easy to see why, now we know his life was a lot more complicated than any of us imagined.” He took a bite of his food.
Being out here in the mountains brought a sense of equanimity that dulled the pain of recent events. He could think and talk about his dad calmly. Brooke’s peaceful presence helped. He couldn’t imagine her getting upset about anything. She was always the voice of reason in the office, ready to pour oil on troubled waters. “Did I ever thank you for taking me by the scruff of the neck and getting me out of trouble the other day?”
“When I marched you to your office and plied you with liquor?” Her pretty green eyes sparkled.
“Yes, that. A wise executive move.”
“More an act of desperation. Still, I’d like to be an executive one day.”
“You’d be good. You have an instinct for how to deal with people—getting them to deliver weekly updates so we know where everyone stands, for example.”
“I got the idea from a management video I watched.”
“I had no idea such bold ambition burned in your chest.” RJ took a swig of wine. Brooke probably was wasted as his assistant, much as it pained him to admit it. HR had recently informed him that she’d submitted her application for a management role in the Events department and he’d told them he couldn’t spare her right now. He needed an assistant he could trust with all that was going on in the wake of his father’s death. Still, holding her back for his own reasons was selfish. He’d have to look around the company for the right role for her.
Brooke’s sparkle had dimmed slightly. “I hope I didn’t overstep the mark. I do really enjoy working with you.”
“Of course you’re looking to the future. I’m glad to hear you have big plans. You have a lot to offer the business world.” He was relieved to see her lips curve into a smile again. “We’ll have to talk about your future when things settle down.”
She nodded. He felt a twinge of guilt that he didn’t want to talk about her future right now, but frankly that was too big, complicated and potentially disturbing a subject for what was supposed to be a relaxing weekend in the mountains.
They chatted more innocuously about Charleston and their favorite music while the sun set and plunged them into the familiar velvety darkness. They swept the plates and glasses back inside. “Should we wash the dishes?” Brooke glanced at them where they lay on the counter. RJ had already disappeared into the next room.
“Don’t worry about them. Come relax.”
Brooke shrugged and followed him into the living room. It was hard to remember she was his guest, not his assistant right now. She hated leaving loose ends but maybe that was part of becoming the kind of person who managed others, rather than one who did everything themselves. RJ had changed the conversation rather deftly after her mention that she’d like to go into management, but maybe he just didn’t want to be reminded of the office when he was trying to relax.
RJ leaned over a sleek device, and suddenly the room filled with music. Ella Fitzgerald, mellow and sultry. He looked up and smiled. “I thought we should dance.”
Excitement stirred in her chest, along with a flutter of nerves. “Sure.”
Dancing would get them close. Closeness would get them … RJ wound his arms around her waist. She could feel the heat of his body through his thin shirt. His back muscles moved under her hands as they swayed to the music. He pulled her against him and soon the rise and fall of her breath matched his. Or was it the other way around?
The song ended and another started, while they moved slowly around the big room. Dancing this way with RJ felt oddly natural, unhurried and relaxing. Arousal crept through her like wine, making her giddy but happy. They didn’t even kiss until the third song started. RJ’s lips brushed hers. Their mouths melded together slowly, tongues meeting and mingling.
Her chest pressed against his, her nipples tightening against his hard muscle. Their hips swayed in rhythm and his hands roamed over her back. By the fifth song the kiss deepened to the point where their feet stopped moving. She felt RJ’s fingers tugging at the hem of her shirt, then sliding over her skin. She shivered with pleasure and let her fingers roam into his waistband.
Soon they were plucking at each other’s shirt buttons and pressing bare skin to bare skin. The music wrapped around them as RJ guided her onto the sofa and together they eased off her jeans. Her body throbbed with desire that gave urgency to her movements. The zipper of his pants got stuck as she tried to undo it and she found herself struggling with desperation that would be funny if she wasn’t so … desperate!
RJ took over and together they shed his pants then wrapped themselves into each other on the wide surface of the sofa. RJ’s big body fit perfectly around hers. His muscled arms held her close and his strong legs and hard abs made her pulse quicken.
Was she really lying semi-naked on a sofa with RJ Kincaid? Perhaps this was one of her more elaborate fantasies getting out of hand?
But his hot breath on her neck felt so real. So did the broad fingers slipping inside her delicate panties, and the lips closing over her nipples through the lace of her bra. Brooke gasped when he sucked on her nipple and sensation shot through her. She pushed her fingers into his thick hair and gave herself over to the sensation, arching her back and pressing her pelvis against him.
They both still wore their underwear, but she could feel RJ’s intense arousal through his cotton boxers, and soon found her hands pushing down the elastic waistband and reaching for his erection. She shivered when she discovered how hard he was, how ready.
“Let’s go into the bedroom.” RJ’s voice was thick with need. Without waiting for her response he picked her up in his strong arms and carried her across the room. Supported by his strong body, Brooke felt weightless and desirable. RJ swept her into his bedroom, and laid her gently on the soft duvet.
“You’re so beautiful.” His gaze roamed over her body, making her skin tingle with excitement. He caressed her skin, starting at her shoulder and trailing his fingertips over her lacy bra and along her waist. When he reached her skimpy panties he hooked a finger into each side and slid them slowly over her legs, devouring her with his gaze as he pulled them down to her toes.
Excitement built in her chest as she waited for him to finish. Then he rose back over her and she leaned forward while he unhooked her bra and released her breasts. He kissed each freshly bared nipple and cooled it with a flash of his tongue. Breath coming faster, she pushed his boxers down over his thighs.
At last they were both naked. RJ climbed over her, kissing her face and murmuring how pretty her eyes were, and how soft her hair. The simple compliments made her feel like a goddess. She let her fingers roam over the thick, roping muscles of his arms and back and wished she could find words to admire them, but words deserted her as sensation overtook her body.
He entered her very gently, kissing her as he sank deep. Brooke arched against him, relishing the feel of him inside her, his powerful arms wrapped around her. The weight of his body settled over her, pushing her into the mattress as she clung to him.
“Oh, RJ.” The words slipped from her mouth as she brushed his rough cheek with her lips. She’d waited years for this moment. She could feel him inside her, hard, yet so gentle as he moved with her.
A shiver of pleasure crept over her as he slid deeper, and she felt herself opening up to him. She snuck a peek at his face, and their eyes met in a single, electric moment. The expression on his face was almost pained, so intense, his blue eyes stormy with emotion.
Brooke felt her heart swell with feeling for this man. So strong and capable, he led the company with such energy and pride, and at this moment his entire being focused on her. His arms wrapped around her, enveloping her in their protective warmth, while he moved with precision and passion.
“You’re an amazing woman, Brooke.” His whispered words stirred something deep inside her. He shifted slightly, sending arrows of pleasure darting through her. Was she amazing? She certainly felt special right now.
Or were they both just caught up in the moment? Or in the madness that had brought her into his arms that night in his office.
A ripple of fear made her hold him tighter. “I’m not amazing.” She couldn’t bear for him to be making love to some imaginary woman who had nothing to do with the real Brooke Nichols. “I’m just … me.”
RJ paused for a moment and their eyes met. Again that fierce gaze almost stole her breath. “You’re amazing because you are just exactly you. The most beautiful, capable, sweet, organized, sexy and irresistible woman I’ve ever met.”
A giggle rose in her chest. “That’s quite a mix of adjectives.”
“You’re a unique person.” He brushed soft kisses over her cheek and the bridge of her nose, making her smile. “And it’s my very great pleasure to be sharing this bed with you.” His penis stirred inside her, sparking a ripple of laughter along with a rush of erotic pleasure.
Her eyes slid closed as she kissed him on the mouth, drinking in the rich taste of him. She’d imagined moments like this, but not that she’d feel so totally swept away on a tide of intense pleasure.
RJ’s strong arms eased them into a new position where she was sitting in his lap. As they moved together, the powerful penetration took her deeper into the mysterious otherworld they shared. RJ’s hands on her skin, his thighs wrapped around her, his hair brushing her forehead …
Feelings raced through her. She wanted to shout, or cry. I love him. The thought flashed in her brain and she held him tighter. Is it just my body talking? Her brain grappled with powerful emotion while her body clung to his, moving with him in a thick sea of pleasure.
I love you, RJ.
She let her mind release the thought, though she didn’t allow her lips to voice it. It was enough for her to know. She didn’t want to throw pressure at him and ruin this beautiful moment. She’d never felt closer to anyone, and maybe she never would again.
For now, it was precious.
Her climax crept over her gradually, starting with little waves that lapped at her fingers and toes, and ending in a big breaker that crashed over her.
RJ joined her, exploding with a gruff cry, crushing her against his chest and pressing his face to hers as they collapsed back on the bed. Overwhelmed by sensation and emotion, she lay limp in his arms.
“I don’t remember the last time I felt this good.” RJ cradled her, stroking her softly. “You’re a miracle.”
Brooke’s chest, already bursting with happiness, almost exploded. Being here with RJ felt so absolutely right. It seemed odd that they hadn’t come together earlier, when they were so perfect for each other. He stroked her cheek and she sighed. She’d made RJ feel good, too. Maybe that was the best part of all.
Lying here in his embrace she could imagine them living happily as a couple. They’d worked together successfully for five years, which was quite an accomplishment already. They’d always got on and never argued, and he obviously respected her opinion. “I’m glad I dragged you out of that meeting and plied you with liquor.”
“Me, too. Not many people would have dared.” He kissed her cheek softly and nuzzled against her. Again her chest swelled with joy. “You’re a brave woman, Brooke Nichols.”
She was, wasn’t she? Not many women would chance a weekend away with their boss. For a moment the familiar doubts started to creep back in. How would they behave at the office? Would he be affectionate or would they go back to professional cordiality? What would she do if he kissed her in front of the other employees?
She blushed just thinking about it. She’d love it, of course. She’d be so proud and happy to be RJ Kincaid’s girlfriend. A dream come true. And here she was, living it.
They kissed, then dressed and went to enjoy more music and dancing, then undressed and made love again. This time they fell asleep together, with seductive music still throbbing away in the living room. Brooke slept deeply, totally relaxed and at ease in RJ’s arms.
In the morning she awoke with an odd mix of anticipation and anxiety. They had two whole days to spend together with no interruptions.
Then again, what if they had nothing to talk about? What if he grew bored with her?
“Morning, gorgeous.” RJ pressed a kiss to the back of her neck.
“Hi.” A wave of pleasure lapped over her at the touch of his lips and her doubts scattered. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Never slept better in my life. You’re the best medicine in the world.”
She smiled. “I’m glad. Last night was fun.”
He kissed her cheek. “More than fun. You’re full of surprises, Brooke.”
“I am?”
“I had no idea you had such a sensual side.”
“I try to keep it under wraps when I’m at the office.” She winked. “Might not be appropriate.”
“There’s a whole different Brooke that I never knew about.”
“Actually I think the Brooke you know is about ninety percent of the real Brooke.” She didn’t want him to start thinking she was really a temptress super-spy or something, and then be disappointed. “There are just a few facets of me best not viewed under fluorescent lighting.”
RJ glanced down at her body and lifted the covers to reveal a peaked pink nipple. “I think you’d look amazing under any lighting.”
The way he stared at her made her feel beautiful. She worked hard to keep her body in reasonably good shape, but she’d never felt ultra gorgeous—until RJ’s appreciative blue gaze touched her skin.
She trailed a finger over his muscled chest. “I’m not sure what I expected under all that crisp suiting, but let’s just say I can tell you work out.”
“I play a lot of tennis and squash. They’re a full-body workout.”
“I used to play tennis in high school.” She said it shyly. She’d been their team’s star player, but never pursued it in college since she didn’t want to take too much time away from her studies and she needed to work almost full-time.
“No kidding? We’ll have to hit some balls together. We can go to the club when we get back.”
The club? The ultra-exclusive country club that cost over fifty thousand dollars a year just for the privilege of membership? She swallowed. “I haven’t played in years. I probably wouldn’t even be able to hit the ball over the net.”
“We’ll have to find out, won’t we? Tennis is like riding a bicycle, at least I think so. After ten minutes or so you’ll feel like you never put down your racquet.”
“Maybe, if you promise to take it easy on me.” She slid her finger down over his hard belly, which contracted under her touch.
“I don’t know. That’s not really the Kincaid way.”
“You’re more into crushing your opponents then dancing over their shattered remains?” That was their business reputation to a certain extent. RJ looked surprised. Had she stepped over an unspoken boundary by talking about the family? “I don’t mean that literally, of course. Just that I—”
RJ laughed. “Don’t back down now. That’s exactly what I meant. We’re not able to lose gracefully. It’s not in our DNA. If we were, maybe we’d be able to fit in better with crusty old Charleston society, where you need to suck up to someone whose great-great-granny came over on the Mayflower just so you’ll get invited to their garden parties. We’re constitutionally unable to do that.”
“But the Kincaids are part of Charleston society.”
He laughed again. “As if there was only one Charleston society. Believe me, there are plenty of people in this town who look down on the Kincaids as nouveau riche upstarts who won’t be around for long.” He looked thoughtful. “It’s never bothered me before, but with everything that’s going on lately I’m more determined than ever to prove them wrong.”
“The Kincaid Group will weather this storm. So far it doesn’t seem so much worse than the time we lost the Martin account.”
“The Martins went out of business. This time people are leaving just because they can, and they’re going to the competition.”
“So, you’ll have to show them what they’re missing. And now’s a good time to build up the company’s real-estate portfolio.”
“It is. We’ve been moving assets in that direction. When the real estate market comes back we’ll be sitting on a gold mine, especially along the Charleston waterfront. Hey, why are we lying here naked talking business?”
“Because we’re that kind of people.” She smiled at him.
He lifted a dark brow. “We’re a lot alike.”
Brooke shrugged. She wasn’t sure how alike they really were. Not being accepted into the highest echelons of Charleston society had never been one of her most pressing problems. And a relationship with her would hardly boost his social standing, which apparently was a big concern for him.
“We are alike.” He obviously sensed her doubts. “We’re both teetering on the brink of being workaholics, we like good restaurants, we play a mean game of tennis and we’re both lying in this bed.”
Brooke chuckled. “When you put it like that … But you’re making a lot of assumptions about my game of tennis.”
“I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t have mentioned it unless you were practically on the tour.”
“I’ll have to be careful what I tell you. You have dangerously high expectations.”
“Only because you never disappoint.” He said it plainly, no hint of teasing.
“Never? Surely I’ve made a few typos along the way.”
“I sincerely doubt it, but I’m talking about you as a person, not an office appliance. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how brilliant you are.”
Brooke beamed inside. “I enjoy a challenge.”
“And I enjoy you.” He nibbled her earlobe gently, sending a rush of sensation through her. Suddenly they were kissing again, then twisted up in the duvet making mad, early morning love.
Love? No. Not that. Having crazy, wild, before-breakfast sex. She’d never had so much sex in a twenty-four-hour period, and they were barely twelve hours in. Energetic and passionate, RJ soon brought her to new heights of arousal and excitement. They climaxed together, with a lot of noise, followed by laughter as they tried to disentangle themselves from the duvet.
“I’d suggest we shower together,” said RJ, once they stopped panting long enough to form a sentence. “But I’m worried we may never make it to breakfast.”
“What are we doing for breakfast? I don’t recall too much breakfast food in the fridge.”
“That’s because there’s an excellent diner up the road, and I always go there. You’ll love it. It’s a real slice of life in the mountains. I’ll shower first, then leave you with some privacy.”
Brooke couldn’t resist sneaking a few long, lascivious peeks as RJ rose from the bed and strode naked across the room. His body was magnificent. Broad shoulders tapered to a slim waist, and his backside … ooh la la. She would probably never be able to keep a straight face in the office again.
She fanned herself as she heard the rush of water in the shower. She’d expected RJ to be a romantic charmer, but not that he’d drive her so completely over the edge. Maybe all the years of fantasizing about him in secret made their actual coming together so intense.
She loved that he was so affectionate. He seemed to really enjoy holding and hugging her, as well as kissing and licking and all that other good stuff. And, boy, was he deft at sliding a condom on at just the right moment. He didn’t even need to interrupt the flow of events. He must have had the packet ripped open before they even started.
She frowned. This should remind her that he was no innocent boy next door on his first date. RJ Kincaid had bedded a lot of women, and she wasn’t likely to be the last.
Her chest tightened, then she realized how foolish it was to be thinking about the future when they still had the whole weekend ahead of them. She had no idea what the future would bring. Who could have predicted that Reginald Kincaid, one of the most vibrant men she’d ever met, would be shot dead by a mystery assailant, let alone that his wife would be accused of his murder?
Brooke let out a long sigh. If only she could figure out who else might be responsible. She was in the office on the night of the murder and left less than half an hour before it happened. The police had even interviewed her as if she was a suspect at first. Whoever killed him might have been in the building the entire time. But who?
“Why the serious face?” RJ appeared in the doorway, toweling off his spectacular bronzed body.
Already she felt a smile creep across her lips. Who could stay serious when confronted with such a vision? “What serious face?”
“Much better.”
They ate an enormous breakfast in the 1950s-style diner, served by the owner who had probably been doling out grits since the 1950s. He made a big fuss of both RJ and Brooke, treating them like visiting royalty. His great-granddaughter, aged about seven, brought them flowers she’d picked in the garden and handed the bouquet to Brooke. “You’re very pretty.”
Brooke smiled. “You’re very pretty, too. And I’m impressed with the standard of service here. You don’t get flowers and compliments every day with breakfast.” When the little girl had skipped back outside she whispered, “I wonder if they pay her to flatter the guests.”
“It’s a good strategy. Maybe The Kincaid Group should try it out on our customers.” Humor twinkled in his eyes. “On the other hand, most of our clients aren’t nearly as easy on the eyes so it might come across as phony.”
“Oh, please.” She wanted to protest that she wasn’t pretty, but she didn’t want to appear to be fishing for more compliments. She’d certainly never felt prettier in her life. “I hope you don’t have anything too strenuous planned for this morning. I’m not sure I’ll be able to move after that fantastic meal.” Perfectly crisp bacon, golden scrambled eggs, freshly baked rolls and spicy fried potato. And the ubiquitous bowl of grits.
“We’ll save the hike to the summit for this afternoon then. How about we stroll to the lake and pretend we’re fishing?”
“Sounds good.”
She had no idea how good. While they’d been relaxing in the diner, a member of staff had packed the trunk of the Suburban with an icebox of chilled beer and a packed lunch.
“I feel like elves are following close behind us waiting on us hand and foot.”
“Just takes a little organizing.”
Again, Brooke wondered if he did this sort of thing often. Bringing girls up to the cabin and scheming with all the locals to pamper and spoil them. Maybe right now the people in the diner were shaking their heads and clucking their tongues and discussing how long “this one” would last.
How long would it last?
RJ opened her car door, always the perfect gentleman. Right now she didn’t feel like his admin at all. It was almost impossible to imagine showing up at the office on Monday and going through his in-box. On the other hand she could imagine any number of intriguing things that could happen between now and Monday.
RJ seemed like a different person than when they left. For the first time since his father’s death he appeared truly relaxed, his face crinkling into smile lines rather than the frown he’d worn so much lately. His broad shoulders looked at ease, not tight with tension.
She felt different, too. Their night of passion had awakened something inside her. She was no virgin but she’d certainly never experienced pleasure like that before. This morning she’d grown into a more deeply sensual person than she was yesterday. Colors were brighter and smells sweeter and even the air tasted bright and crisp as champagne.
By Monday they’d both be different people, one way or another. Her fantasy of a relationship with RJ was coming true and happiness seemed right within her grasp.
Though if it didn’t work out, if this weekend was all they had, she’d have the agony of knowing just what she was missing—for the rest of her life.

Five
A lazy morning of casting flies from a grassy riverbank, followed by their luxurious picnic, led to a relaxed walk in the woods. RJ was easy to talk to. Which was hardly a surprise given that she’d known him for years. It was odd, and wonderful, how quickly and totally their relationship had altered from being purely professional to … utterly unprofessional.
They carried a thick foam camping pad out onto the broad balcony of the cottage, and now lay on it, naked, covered only by a thin sheet swiped from the linen closet. Warm spring air caressed their skin, still damp from the exertions of a heated afternoon lovemaking session. RJ traced patterns on her belly with a lazy finger, stirring little rivers of sensation that made her want to giggle.
His hair, tousled at some point by her fingers, hung down to his eyes, which shone, dark with arousal. “Maybe we shouldn’t ever go back.”
Brooke’s stomach contracted slightly under his fingers. “Tempting as that sounds …”
“Come on. Would they really miss us?” Humor deepened his dimples. “That unpleasant Jack Sinclair can take over running the company and you and I can just live in the woods on trout.”
“We didn’t catch any trout.” The idea held marvelous appeal. No more early morning commutes. No more taking minutes in meetings. But at heart she was a practical girl. “We didn’t even see any trout.”
RJ’s grin was infectious. “Berries, then.”
“Okay, berries. Supplemented with orders from your favorite restaurant.” She played with the lock of dark hair on his forehead.
RJ planted a kiss on her stomach. “I’ve never contemplated any other life than the one I was born to. Lately, though, with all this madness surrounding the family and the company, I can’t help thinking that there are other possibilities out there.” His expression darkened somewhat. “And that in making his will my dad was giving me permission to explore them.”
Was he serious? She couldn’t imagine The Kincaid Group without RJ, or RJ without the company that seemed to be his lifeblood.
But she wanted to be supportive. “What would you like to do, if you could do anything?”
RJ traced the line of her thigh with his broad thumb. “I think I’m doing it.” His mischievous expression teased her. “And maybe I could branch out into this.” He lowered his head and licked her nipple, tightening it to a hard peak. “And this.” He raised his mouth to hers and kissed her with exquisite tenderness.
Brooke’s heart swelled inside a chest already very full with the wonder and excitement of their new relationship. RJ spoke as if he’d just discovered the love of his life—her.
Don’t get carried away! Up here in the clouds it was easy to forget all about the real world, but sooner or later they’d have to go back to it.
After another delicious dinner from the bounty in the fridge they watched a classic Hitchcock movie together. RJ held her tight during the scary bits and Brooke loved enjoying such a normal, everyday couple activity with the man who’d once seemed wholly unobtainable. After the movie they shared a dish of caramel ice cream, then kissed with cold tongues and warm hearts.
Sunday was a lazy day. They didn’t even rise from bed until nearly noon, and only then because RJ decided it was time to confront the manila envelope of memories his father had left him.
RJ brought a new sense of calm back into the study with him. He’d closed the door on Friday night determined to enjoy his weekend with Brooke. By Sunday, however, a sliver of guilt was intruding on their shared paradise. Sunday dinner was a Kincaid tradition. They all gathered in the big family home and shared a traditional roast or some other delicacy their mom had conjured up. Now she was in jail, the family tradition was temporarily suspended. How could they face each other across the table with neither the matriarch nor the patriarch of the family present?
Their dad would never sit there again. They’d stubbornly kept the tradition going at their mom’s insistence in the weeks and months since his death. It was no doubt his responsibility as the eldest to gather the clan in their mom’s absence, but he didn’t have the heart.
He’d spent two enjoyable days here on the outskirts of his life, with the lovely Brooke for company. But he had decisions to make and avoiding them didn’t sit well with him.
Brooke had cooked pancakes from a packet mix while he made coffee, and after they’d eaten she tactfully excused herself, saying she needed time to make a couple of phone calls. She went out on the terrace, where the reception was strongest, and he headed back into his father’s inner sanctum with a heavy heart.
The envelope lay there in the drawer where he’d left it. He wondered if his dad had prepared it all at once in a typical flourish of brusque efficiency, or if its contents were the product of hours of thought, packing and unpacking.
Probably the former. With a swift inhale he pulled the packet from the drawer and emptied its contents on the desk in a rude clatter and rustle. Amongst the yellowed papers was a crisp, new sheet, folded in two. RJ snatched it off the desk and pulled it open. His scalp pricked with discomfort as he saw the handwritten lines. Another letter. The letter he’d opened and read so hastily after the funeral had cut a dark scar in his heart and he suspected this would only reopen and deepen the wound.
While you bear my name, you are in truth not my firstborn son.
He’d seen Angela and her sons at his father’s funeral, but refused to believe the gossip about who they were. When he opened the letter, that one brief line had knocked away the foundation of his life. So swift and brutal was the blow that he’d been hard-pressed to act like himself for the rest of the day. He no longer was himself. Since birth he’d been Reginald Kincaid, Jr., chip off the old block. All he’d wanted was to be just like his dad, a proud family man, successful in business and in everything else he turned his hand to, from fighting foreign wars to scoring birdies on the club golf course.
In that letter his father had revealed he was not the man they’d all assumed him to be. Fathering a child before his marriage was one thing—and as he’d posthumously explained, he didn’t know about his son Jack until years after his birth—but resuming his relationship with his son’s mother and maintaining them as a second family went beyond the common accusation of adultery and into the realm of almost criminal deception.
Steeling himself, he focused on the handwritten script that covered most of two pages.
Dear Reginald,
We all make choices in life and, as you are by now well aware, I made choices that many would disapprove of. You may well be angry with me, and knowing your proud and honest spirit, I bet you are. You’ve had some time to think about how all this affects you, and above all I want to make you aware that you have choices, too.
RJ growled. Did his father think he was some beardless sixteen-year-old looking for a pep talk? He’d been a man himself now for a decade and a half.
My parents took away my choices when they forbid me to marry Angela, the woman I loved.
RJ suppressed a curse. How he wished he’d never heard the name of Angela Sinclair, or her accursed son.
Being an obedient son, I didn’t marry her. Instead I ran away from them all, from all of their plans and hopes and dreams for me. As you know, my time in the service was a defining period in my life that shaped me like a blade in the furnace, and I look back on it with pride as well as regret. I’m enclosing the ring I wore for many years as a symbol of my commitment to my unit. It was a wedding ring of sorts, when I wore it, as I had thrown away all other allegiances. I sought to escape my former life and forge a new one all my own. I also enclose the pilot’s license I earned all those years ago and that you used to tease me about. As you can see, it really does exist, along with the other, less savory, realities of my life.
Escape is an illusion. No matter how far you run, or how fast, the truths of your life—of who you are and what you’ve done—dog your heels over all terrain, and sooner or later you have to turn and face them. When I returned home I had to face the parents who’d waited and worried every day I was gone. This time, obeying their wishes that I take a suitable bride and start a family seemed a far more livable kind of escape, and I soon met and married your wonderful mother. My happiness was complete and I barely thought of the lives I’d left behind, until I learned by chance that the woman I once loved had borne my child and raised him in my absence.
By this time I had children of my own with your mother and knew the force, and felt the commitment, of the paternal bond. I hope you’ll one day understand that there was no way I could turn my back on my own flesh and blood. When I met Angela again, I felt the full power of our grand passion that I’d tried so hard to leave behind in my attempts to be a good son.
Don’t be a good son, RJ.
RJ blinked and thrust the letter down, growling with a mix of fury and disbelief. All his life he’d been proud to fulfill his parents’ goals and dreams, to now be told it was all some kind of colossal mistake? He snatched the pages up again, anxious to get to the end.
All your life you’ve been told where to go and what to do. Your mother and I carefully chose the best schools and groomed you for your future role in The Kincaid Group. We never asked you what you wanted. RJ, my son, I want you to take this opportunity to look inside yourself and decide what you truly want from your life.
RJ threw the letter down with another curse. How arrogant of his father to assume that he’d blindly followed along with their plans for him. He’d been successful in school and in business and everything in between because of his own hard work and dedication and because he’d wanted to. He knew plenty of men with all his advantages who’d thrown them away and run off to pursue alternate dreams. His old pal Jake ran a beach bar in Jamaica, for Chrissakes. He could have dropped out of the Caine Academy, or flunked out of Duke and opened a surf shop. He hadn’t done those things because he’d chosen the life he was living. He’d fully intended to spend his entire career building The Kincaid Group until his father decided to pull the rug out from under him.
He was nearly at the end of the letter anyway. Blood boiling with a mix of anger and frustration, he focused his eyes on the neat handwriting again.
The defining fact of my life, son, is that I loved two women.
RJ shook his head. Surely love was an act of choice. In his opinion his dad should have told his parents to shove it and married Angela. Of course he would never have been born, but right now that didn’t seem like such a bad deal.
I never claimed Angela and our son during my life as my role in society was important to me. I wanted those invitations to the black tie affairs, the yacht club memberships and the satisfaction of being a leading member of Charleston society.
RJ snorted. Thanks for setting fire to all that and leaving us in the ashes.
His father had always put a lot of stock in what other people thought. More than a man of his standing should have to. It likely went back to the Kincaids never being on quite the upper tier of Charleston society. His mom’s family was one of the old guard. In retrospect he could see that was probably the chief reason his dad married her. And now look where marriage to Reginald Kincaid had put her.
I’m not proud of the choices I made. I’ve long carried the burden of keeping Angela and her sons secret. In making my will I tried to redress some of the wrongs I committed against Jack. He grew up on the sidelines of society, as the child of a single mother, and without many of the advantages you enjoyed. In giving him a majority share in The Kincaid Group I aimed to give him the opportunities he was denied as a boy. I realize this may seem unfair to you, but I also know you’re wise enough to understand my reasoning and strong enough to forge ahead and make a success of your life, either in the company or outside it. If you’re reading this letter it’s because I’m dead, of natural causes or otherwise. I wrote it to explain myself to you after you’d had some time to reflect on the terms of the will, since knowing you as I do I suspect you tore up my first letter and threw it on the fire. I love you, RJ, and I’m proud of you.
Dad.
RJ sank into the chair. His anger had evaporated, replaced by a wounding sorrow. Apparently his dad hadn’t known him as well as he’d thought. Far from tearing up his first letter, he’d carried it with him since the day he received it. Maybe his dad really hadn’t known how much he’d loved him? They’d never been much for words or hugs.
Angry as he was at the choices—no, the stupid mistakes—his father had made, he’d give almost anything to see him just one more time.
But life—and death—didn’t work like that.
He folded the letter and thrust the ring, the license, the photos and other stray bits of paper that commemorated milestones in his dad’s life, back into the envelope.
His dad had given him permission, perhaps encouragement, to leave The Kincaid Group if he wanted to. He could move away, start a new life in a different city.
A cold shiver ran through him at the limitless possibilities, the many routes his life could take. Right now the only thing he wanted was to see Brooke’s lovely smile again.
“Brooke! You promised you’d tell me everything!” Evie’s voice rose with exasperation.
Brooke moved the phone further from her ear. “I’m trying. The weekend’s not even over yet. I’m sitting on a balcony with a ridiculous view over what must be the entire range of the Great Smoky Mountains.” The morning “smoke” or fog had evaporated, leaving a crystal-clear vista of wooded slopes and sapphire blue sky. How could she even describe what she’d experienced over the last two days? “It’s just a romantic weekend. You know what that’s like.” She wanted to downplay the whole thing. It was their first weekend together. Yes, it was fantastic. More than fantastic. But it didn’t mean RJ would be shopping for a ring later.
“You had sex with him?”
“No, we meditated together.”
“Oh, stop! Okay, that was a bit crude. You slept together.”
“We did that, too. He’s a very heavy sleeper, who makes this adorable purring noise right before he’s about to wake up.” A vision of his powerful chest rising and falling filled her brain. She’d watched him for over an hour, afraid that if she moved she’d wake him and spoil the pleasure of watching him sleep in her arms. He’d looked both powerful and vulnerable at the same time. Irresistible.
“Aw, like a big kitty. So when are you seeing him again?”
“I imagine I’ll see him first thing tomorrow when I give him his mail.” She swallowed. Would she be able to maintain her usual professional demeanor now that she knew exactly what he looked like beneath those elegant pin-striped suits? Now that he knew exactly what she looked like beneath her tailored skirts and blouses.
Her nipples pricked to attention as she remembered his blue gaze raking over her skin, drinking her in like a long, tall glass of water in the desert.
“Hmm, mad passionate love on the office desk, papers sliding forgotten to the floor while the phone rings.”
“Definitely not.” Brooke blushed at the vivid image her friend had conjured.
“Never say never. Would you have thought a week ago that you’d be locking lips in his office?”
“Not in a million years. I won’t say I didn’t fantasize about it, but I never thought it would happen.”
“See? Anything could happen. Before the year is out you could be Mrs. Brooke Kincaid.”
“I very much doubt it. The Kincaids are apparently obsessed with their social standing in Charleston. In addition to being illegitimate, I don’t have a drop of blue blood in my veins. RJ’s father didn’t marry his mistress because she wasn’t from the right social class, and from the sound of it not much has changed since then.”
“Don’t be silly. RJ’s crazy about you, and he’s far too self-assured to worry about other people’s opinions of his lovely bride.”
“Stop! I thought you were the one warning me to go slow in case it all ends in tears.”
“The way I see it, you’re in over your head already. Might as well enjoy it and worry about the tears later. Did you ever figure out what to get your mom for her birthday?”
Brooke gasped. “I can’t believe it. I totally forgot! And it’s tomorrow. No, it’s today, Sunday! I haven’t even called her. I’m supposed to be at her place for dinner.”
Becoming involved with RJ had totally derailed her brain. She hung up and called her mom to confirm they were still on. As she was speaking, she heard the sliding door to the balcony whisper open, and RJ stepped out. She waved hi and finished the conversation, telling her mom to book a table wherever she wanted.
“I missed you.” RJ’s deep voice wrapped around her at the same time his arms did.
“We weren’t apart more than twenty minutes.”
“Felt like an eternity.” He nuzzled her neck, then rested his head on her shoulder for a moment.
“Are you okay? Did you read the letter?”
She felt his chest rise as he sucked in a breath. “I read the letter. My dad apparently gives me permission to abandon all my responsibilities and seize a new life by the …” He looked up and his gaze met hers with blistering force. “All I can say is thank heaven for you being here in my arms right now.”
“Don’t let it get to you. Maybe we should go for a walk in the woods to blow off steam.”
A sparkle of mischief crept into his eyes. “I can think of another way to blow off steam.”
Brooke wasn’t at all nervous on the flight back. Hand in hand with RJ, she felt they could stride across the world together and nothing could harm them.
Back in her condo, she shrugged out of the chic “country attire” she’d bought for her weekend in the woods, showered and dressed in something her mom would approve of. “You have such a nice body. You should let people see it.” By people, she meant men. Barbara Nichols’s life revolved around men and the chance of being admired by them.
She stopped by a mall and picked up the most expensive tennis bracelet she could find. Expensive was always good as her mom would know exactly how much it cost. When she arrived at 14 Pine Grove, as usual her mom was dressed for a night on the town. “Oh sweetheart, you shouldn’t have!” The sparkly bracelet hit its mark, and was immediately added to the collection of bling on her thin wrist.
“Where’s Timmy?” Her mom’s boyfriend had been a regular fixture around the house for nearly two years.
“Moved to Charlotte.”
“Why?”
“His job transferred him to their plant there.” She shrugged as if she couldn’t care less. Brooke could see the lines in her face had deepened.
“Oh, Mom, I know you two got along well. Did you talk at all about going to join him?”
Her mom’s pale blue eyes had a hollow look. “He said he thought it was better if we made a clean break. He started talking about kids and you know how that goes.” She swatted the air dismissively with her manicured hand. Timmy was at least fifteen years younger than her. This had happened before.
“I’m sorry to hear that, because I thought he was nice.” Not interesting, or funny, or charming or gorgeous, like RJ, but he treated her mom well.
“Yeah, well. Sooner or later it’s time to move on. Maybe we’ll meet Mr. Right tonight. I booked us a table at Dashers, it’s a new place just up the road.”
Brooke’s heart sank. The prospect of sitting at a bar booth, eyeing potentially eligible males with her mother, was enough to suck every last breath of wind from her sails. Again, this had happened before. Still, it was her birthday.
Twenty minutes later they sat in the shiny black booth, which looked just as Brooke had imagined it. Her mom’s sculpted legs were artfully draped outside the booth where they could catch the eye of any passing males. “How about you, sweetheart? Are you still spending the weekends holed up in your apartment practicing yoga or do you ever go out into the world?”
All of Brooke’s better judgment told her to keep quiet about RJ. “Actually I’m seeing someone.” Apparently her better judgment had disappeared with her first sip of Frascati.
Her mom’s mouth and eyes widened. “Who? Someone from work?”
Brooke gulped. “Um, yes, actually.”
“Did you finally catch that gorgeous boss of yours?” She leaned in conspiratorially. “I’m always telling you you’re beautiful enough for even the richest man in Charleston, if you’d just shine a light on your assets.” She glanced approvingly at the cleavage revealed by her blouse. “You do have a glow about you, now I’m looking closer.” Her penciled brow lifted. “Well, don’t sit there in silence. Tell me more!”

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