His Heir, Her Secret. Janice MaynardЧитать онлайн книгу.
fatale and spinster schoolteacher. Her pale blond hair was like sunshine on a winter afternoon, though she kept it tucked up in a tight knot on the back of her head most days, the kind of knot that looked headache-producing from the get-go.
But when she let it down...hot damn. Even now Brody’s fingers itched to touch the fall of silk that had spilled across his chest and still featured in his fantasies.
She was tall, five-ten at least. Brody knew the curves and valleys of her alluring shape, but Cate kept her body mostly hidden beneath loose cardigans and below-the-knee jumpers. He had no clue why a woman as intensely feminine as she was would make a concerted effort to hide in plain sight.
After a long, awkward silence, she cast him a sideways glance, her small smile rueful. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. It’s nice to see you again, Brody.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Nice?”
“I didn’t want to give you any ideas.”
“About what?”
“You know what,” Cate said crossly. “I’m not interested in picking up where we left off.”
“Maybe I wasn’t going to ask.” He taunted her deliberately. Her prickly attitude was both frustrating and a challenge. He’d never met a woman with as many complicated layers as Cate Everett.
Cate sighed. “It’s cold here in the foyer. Do you mind if we go find the others? I’m starving.”
“Of course. I do remember how ye like to eat.”
When Cate flushed to her hairline, he smiled inwardly. On one memorable occasion last fall, the two of them had climbed out of Cate’s bed at midnight and fixed scrambled eggs and bacon, because they had skipped dinner in favor of urgent, mind-blowing sex.
Cate knew her way around Isobel’s house, so he let her lead. She and Granny had been friends for several years. Although Brody had pumped his grandmother for information about the aloof American, she had fed him few details.
They found Duncan and Isobel in the dining room. The caterer who was preparing dinner had set an elegant table with Stewart china and silver and crystal. Brody’s grandmother stood behind the chair that had been her husband’s and rested her hands on the tall back. “One of you boys should sit here,” she said with the tiniest quaver in her voice.
Brody and Duncan looked at each other. Cate winced. Finally, Brody shook his head. “I can’t, Granny. Neither can Duncan.”
“Then why did ye make me come up here?” she snapped, her eyes welling with tears. “If my own grandsons won’t move on, how am I supposed to?”
To Brody’s relief, Cate stepped forward. “What if I take Mr. Geoffrey’s chair tonight, Miss Izzy? It would be my honor. You can sit here beside me.”
Brody mouthed a thank-you to her over his grandmother’s head. Izzy had some definite ideas about how the future was going to play out, and she wasn’t above emotional manipulation to get her way. He and Duncan had spent hours discussing possibilities, but no single solution had presented itself as of yet.
Without extra leaves in the antique table, the four adults sat in an intimate enclave, Cate and Duncan at the head and foot, Brody and Izzy to Cate’s left and right. Fortunately, the caterer was on his game, and the elaborate meal kicked off immediately, helping ease the moments of tension. The brothers had ordered all of Izzy’s favorites: fresh brook trout, seasoned carrots and potatoes, flaky biscuits and tender asparagus, all washed down with an expensive zinfandel. Though the elderly woman’s capacity for food was modest, she ate with delight, her worn, wrinkled face aglow.
Cate did her part, not only by sitting in for the ghost at the table, but also by contributing with her quick wit and stimulating conversation. The four adults covered books and politics and international affairs.
Duncan, much to Brody’s dismay, seemed especially taken with Cate. That was a really bad idea. Maybe Brody should have given his little brother a heads-up that the lady was spoken for.
He choked on a bit of carrot and had to wash it down with half a glass of water, red-faced and stunned. If Duncan ended up being the one to move here with Granny and keep the business afloat, it made perfect sense that he and Cate might hit it off.
Apparently, Brody did a poor job of disguising his emotions. Granny Isobel waved a fork at him. “Ye okay there, my lad? Did you find a bone in your fish?”
Brody grimaced. “I’m fine.”
Cate gazed at him curiously with catlike green eyes that always made him uncomfortable. He didn’t particularly want a woman peering into his soul. Surely it was his imagination that suggested she could read his every thought.
Desperate to deflect the attention from himself, he nudged his brother’s foot under the table. “Duncan here has some good ideas about the company, Granny.”
Isobel perked up. “I’m listening.”
Duncan glared at his brother with a fierceness that promised retribution. He cleared his throat. “The thing is, Granny, I think it makes a lot of sense to put Stewart Properties on the market. The American economy has rebounded. It’s an optimal time to sell. Ye shouldn’t be living alone at your age anyway, and just think how happy Dad would be if you moved back to Scotland.”
Everything in the room went silent. The four adults sat frozen in an uncomfortable tableau. The caterer was nowhere to be seen, undoubtedly in the kitchen whipping up a fabulous dessert.
Cate cleared her throat and stood. “This is family business,” she said quietly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go to the library and amuse myself.”
Before Brody could protest, Isobel lifted her chin and stared them down with the arrogance of a queen. “Ye’re not leaving, Cate. I asked you to come with me tonight, and I consider ye one of my dearest friends. It appears I may need someone on my side.”
Brody frowned. “That’s not fair, Granny, and you know it. Duncan and I love you dearly and want the best for everyone involved. There are no sides in this conversation.”
His grandmother huffed, a sound he recognized from his childhood and all the years in between. “When I’m dead, ye can do whatever you like with your inheritance. For now, though, this company Geoffrey and I built with our sweat and tears is all I have left of him. To be honest, I’m glad you forced the issue of me coming back to the house. I didn’t realize how much I had missed it.”
“We could keep the house,” Brody said. He had thrown his brother under the bus. Now it was time for Brody to take some of the heat.
Isobel glared at him. “What part of not selling didn’t you understand? I’m old. Don’t you get it? I won’t be here much longer. Besides, I have two excellent managers who are working out very well in Geoffrey’s absence.”
Cate brought in reinforcements, giving Brody a look of sympathy. “But remember, Miss Izzy, Herman is getting ready to move to California...to be near his ailing parents, and it’s too huge an operation for Kevin to manage all on his own. You said so yourself.”
Instead of being cowed, Isobel seemed energized by the conflict. “Then one of these two will pick up the slack. Surely that’s not too much for an old woman to ask of her grandsons.”
Again, silence descended, heavy with the weight of familial expectations. Cate tried to help, God bless her generous soul. “Brody has his boat business in Skye, Miss Izzy. Surely you wouldn’t ask him to give that up. And Duncan is a partner in that, right?” She lifted an eyebrow.
Duncan nodded. “I am. Brody still owns the controlling share, but I handle all the financial operations.”
Izzy wasn’t impressed. “So sell your business. You can both