The Tycoon's Son. Shawna DelacorteЧитать онлайн книгу.
More likely the house represented a time in his past that he did not want to lose—a time when Vicki was part of his life and he had assumed also a part of his future.
So, the large house on the hill had remained empty, silently standing watch over the valley below and the ocean beyond.
Wyatt ascended the staircase to the second floor. He had lots to do and the clock was ticking. He devoted the rest of his day to unpacking and organizing, with the hope that keeping busy would occupy his mind so that his thoughts would not turn toward Vicki. So far the plan had been a dismal failure.
In her store at the base of the hill, Vicki, too, tried to keep active. But her attention shifted to the window every time she heard a car door slam, the accompanying adrenaline surge telling her how frightened she was about the prospect of having Wyatt around all the time. Sometimes Noreen’s overabundance of good cheer got on her nerves, but not today. She encouraged her employee’s ongoing chatter, welcoming anything that kept her from thinking about Wyatt Edwards.
The day passed far too slowly. Each minute seemed like an hour. Richie visited the store after school, but she immediately sent him home to do his schoolwork. She did not want to risk Wyatt returning and running into her son... their son.
She had been almost four months pregnant with Wyatt’s child when she had married another man. Robert Bmgham knew she needed a stable home for her baby. He also knew she was not in love with him, but he said it did not matter. He had stood by her through a very difficult pregnancy. He had treated her with respect and unconditional love, and he could not have loved her son more if the boy had been his own, never once asking her about Richie’s biological father.
Vicki had an overwhelming respect for Robert and with time had grown to love him, too. But it was not the type of passionate, all-consuming love she had felt for Wyatt Edwards—a love that had never vanished from her consciousness. She had never been able to give Robert the kind of love that he had deserved, and it had hurt her each time she saw in his eyes that he knew there would always be someone else. He had never confronted her about it, but she had carried the self-inflicted guilt and the sorrow for the duration of their marriage.
And now her son’s real father had unexpectedly reappeared in her life. That posed a tremendous threat to her emotional security and that of her son. She needed to make sure nothing upset Richie’s memories of the loving and kind man he knew as his father.
That night as she lay in bed, Vicki was very restless, tossing and turning without getting much sleep. Morning finally came and she forced herself out of bed, leaving a tangled mess of sheets and blankets. Was this how it would be from now on? Would each day begin with an overwhelming fear that her most closely guarded secret would become public knowledge? That Wyatt would discover he had a son? That Richie’s world would crash around him even further than it already had? And all the while she would be looking at Wyatt and thinking what if?
“Come on, Richie.” She knocked on his bedroom door for the second time. “Get out of bed. You’re going to miss the school bus if you don’t hurry.” She heard the irritation in her voice and immediately admonished herself for letting it show.
A moment later the door opened and Richie appeared, dressed and ready for breakfast. He gave her a curious look. She impulsively pulled him into a hug and kissed his forehead.
He quickly squirmed from her arms and stepped back, making no effort to hide his exasperation. “Cut it out! What’s the matter with you today?”
She saw the embarrassment that covered his features, the same features that adorned Wyatt’s face. She smiled and started to reach for his hair, but stopped when he shot her the look. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just glad to see you, that’s all.”
“Sure, Mom.” A withering sigh surrounded his words. “I’m glad to see you, too.” His expression said he knew she had totally flipped out and senility had finally set in. He headed for the kitchen, gulped down a glass of orange juice, then reached for the box of cereal.
Vicki. hurried to work, arriving early so that she could take care of part of the morning routine in the store before the truck delivered the daily mail. She would be working alone until two o’clock when Noreen came to work. She sorted the mail, finishing just in time to make coffee and unlock the front door to the market.
She heard the bell that signaled that the outside door of the post office had been opened. Most likely someone wanted to check the mail before going to work. She turned to pour herself a cup of coffee. When she turned back, she found Wyatt standing in the connecting door, staring at her. The intense expression on his face sent a shiver of anxiety through her.
“Uh...good morning. I’m surprised to see you again so soon.” She took a sip of her coffee to avoid further conversation.
“I just came by to check on my mail,” Wyatt said. It was a feeble lie. They both knew there was no way he could have received any mail at his new post-office box yet. He slowly made his way across the store, pausing to look at whatever happened to catch his eye en route, until finally he arrived at the front counter.
He leaned on the countertop and proffered what he hoped was a casual smile. “That coffee smells good.”
She indicated the large urn at the end of the counter. “Cups are on the other side, three sizes with the prices marked.”
He took a large cup from the dispenser. “I see you have pastries, too. I’ll take one of these bear claws to go with my coffee.” He placed his money on the counter and she rang up the sale.
The stress level inside Vicki increased dramatically. What did he want from her? Why did he insist on hanging around? She tried to maintain a businesslike manner. “Did you need something else or will that be all?”
He watched as she nervously bit at her lower lip. Her discomfort showed in the way she kept shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Her gaze constantly darted around the market, not staying on any one thing for more than a second or two.
He took a swallow from his coffee cup, deliberately stalling before his response. “Are you expecting someone?”
“Uh...no. No one in particular. Why do you ask?”
“You keep glancing out the window. I just thought maybe you were expecting a delivery or something.” Her behavior continued to be what he considered strange, at least for the Vicki Dalton he once knew—back before his whole world turned upside down on him.
He was now more convinced than ever that she was hiding some kind of secret and he was determined to find out what it was. In spite of the fact that she had hurt him and left him empty and angry, she had remained the one and only woman he truly wanted. Now, for reasons he did not clearly understand, they had been thrown together again. He had a second chance and he was not going to let it go without a fight. He would find out exactly what had happened all those years ago when she walked out on him.
“Vicki...” He saw the way she jumped at the sound of his voice. “Are you all right? I’ve never seen you so jittery.” His words came out as half concern and half irritation.
The buzzer intruded into their conversation once again. Someone had opened the front door of the market. Vicki breathed a sigh of rehef as she turned to see who it was. Her relief immediately turned to anxiety when she saw Alice Thackery.
Wyatt eyed the disagreeable woman. He lowered his voice so that only Vicki could hear him. “We’ll continue this conversation later. I want to get out of here before she pins me to the wall about something I might have done twenty-five years ago.” He nodded curtly to Alice, acknowledging her presence as he left.
Alice watched him until he was out of sight, then turned toward Vicki. Her tightly pursed lips only added to the harshness of her unsmiling features. Her tone was sarcastic and condemning. “Well, I see it didn’t take long for Henry’s boy to come sniffing around here.”
Vicki refused to acknowledge her comment. “Is there something I can help you with, Mrs.