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Shielding His Christmas Witness. Laura ScottЧитать онлайн книгу.

Shielding His Christmas Witness - Laura Scott


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kind.”

      Hunter gave his grandmother a sharp look. “Is that how you learned?”

      “My daddy raised bird dogs and I grew up with horses so I learned at a young age about horses and dogs and later on, children.”

      “You raised us like we were puppies?”

      “And look how you turned out. I should write a book.” Miss E.’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Raising your children to bark on command.”

      Lydia burst out laughing. “At one time I wanted to take horseback riding lessons myself.”

      “Why didn’t you?”

      She sighed. “My parents didn’t consider it an acceptable sport for a proper young lady.”

      Now that was sad. His parents and later his grandmother indulged all of them in their interests. He was beginning to dislike Lydia’s parents. “What are you going to tell her?” He gestured at Maya.

      Lydia hugged her daughter. “I’ll consider it.”

      Miss E. leaned over Hunter and whispered, “She’s in.”

      As if Hunter didn’t already know that. Frankly, so was he. He was just going to make them work a bit harder for it.

      Maya leaned against her mother’s knee, her eyes pleading. “Please, please, please.”

      “I said I’d consider it. Horses bite.” Lydia brushed a few flyaway tendrils of her daughter’s dark hair away from her face.

      “We’ll find one that doesn’t bite,” Miss E. said, a note of finality in her tone.

      Oh, yeah, Maya was getting a horse. And he was getting a new job...at least for a while. He would have to call his partner and arrange for him to take over his clients. He needed to call his assistant and let her know. A list formed in his mind. The logistics of what he was about to do made him wonder if he was the one who was insane.

      * * *

      Lydia didn’t realize how bored she’d been with her life until she met Miss E. Miss E. lived a life Lydia could only dream about. She’d lived on her luck and her wits while raising her grandchildren. She’d taken risks, never knowing if she would win or lose, while shaping her own destiny. If Lydia didn’t know any better, she might have been jealous. Lydia wasn’t very comfortable knowing that about herself. Jealousy was bad. Jealousy was a sin. She had heard that often enough from the pulpit of the Baptist church her parents attended.

      Lydia grinned at her daughter flying through the suite, putting her clothes away. Lydia had wanted a pony, too, but her parents had enrolled her in ballet in order to learn to be graceful and fluid. Yes, she had learned gracefulness, but also how to appreciate music and be resilient, how to balance and develop her eye-hand coordination. She had loved ballet as a child, but she’d really wanted a horse, just like Maya.

      “Your son is very forceful,” Lydia said to Miss E. after Hunter left. And handsome. She was glad he was gone because he made her feel...she wasn’t sure what. But whatever it was left her uncomfortable because for a brief second her gaze had settled on his lips and she’d wondered what it would be like to be kissed by him. Miss E. laughed. “He’s the oldest and thinks he’s expected to act in such a manner. Underneath he’s a pussycat.” Miss E. paused in the act of zipping up a suitcase. “You’re not going to let him scare you because he thinks I’m eccentric, are you?”

      “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who has all their marbles like you do.” Everybody who had sat down at that poker table had been at least thirty years younger than Miss E., and she’d outwitted them all. “You are living, breathing proof that experience is the most valuable asset.”

      “An asset you need to develop.”

      “I’m nothing compared to you,” Lydia said almost ashamedly.

      “You have skills I will never have. I sat down at the table with a bunch of men who knew my reputation and knew not to underestimate me, but you, with your beautiful face, charming manner and soft voice—no one looks at you and thinks that underneath you have a will of steel.”

      “I don’t have that,” Lydia objected, thinking of all the times she’d obediently followed her mother’s orders just to be nice.

      “You underestimate yourself. The second the door on your gilded cage was unlocked, you flew away.”

      “I had no plan.” Running away from New Orleans had been impulsive and possibly silly. She’d done so anyway because she couldn’t stand the feeling of being cloistered, of being locked up.

      “Yes, you did. You snatched your daughter and fled. You waited until you found someone...me...who would help you. You didn’t just walk into my poker school to learn to play poker for fun. You needed a skill. You needed to learn how to outwit people with what you think you don’t have.”

      Lydia stared in astonishment at Miss E. If anything else, learning to play poker had taught her to keep her cards close to her vest and learn strategy. “How did you know that about me? I didn’t even know that about me.”

      “I watched you watching people. In the three months you’ve been here, you’ve become a better poker player than ninety percent of the people I’ve ever taught. That’s because they were playing for fun and you weren’t. They wanted to win money and you wanted to win respect. I know you like it when people underestimate you.”

      Lydia stared into the older woman’s shrewd eyes, frowning. “I’m not that good at poker.”

      Miss E. simply smiled. “You don’t play cards, you play the cards, you play the people. You manipulate them by your actions. Do you know how many tournaments I’ve won and never even looked at my cards?”

      “Miss Eleanor, you make me sound so manipulative.” But wasn’t she? she asked herself. How often had her husband brought home some little piece of jewelry because she admired it and had manipulated him into purchasing it? Once he bought her a brand new Lexus because she’d complained about the Cadillac. And she’d managed to keep Maya out of the prestigious boarding school Mitchell thought would be good for her by batting her eyes and telling him how much Maya was an asset for his business. All because he made profitable contacts through Maya’s friends in the fancy private school she attended. She didn’t care about his business as much as she wanted to keep Maya home with her. She had used Mitchell’s ego to get what she’d wanted. He’d given in because he adored Maya and deep down inside wanted to keep her home, too.

      “You’re a beautiful, fragile woman and your ability to manipulate is your greatest weapon. You keep letting people underestimate you, because when you knock them on their butt, they are still not going to get it. And mark my words, you’re going to knock Hunter on his butt and I’m going to enjoy watching you.”

      Lydia sat down on the sofa and let her thoughts wander. “Thinking back, I believe you might be right.” Unfortunately her actions reminded her of her mother and made her uncomfortable. Caroline Fairchild had gotten what she wanted the very same way Lydia had. Lydia wanted to change that part of herself.

      “You fascinate me, my dear. I read you five minutes after we met.” Miss E. opened the closet door and hung up Maya’s dresses. Maya had retreated to a corner of the bedroom with her dolls, and sat on the floor playing quietly.

      Lydia ran over in her mind why she’d come to Reno when she could have gone anywhere. She had more money than she could spend in a thousand lifetimes. She had global contacts and time.

      Maybe Hunter had figured her out. Reno was as different as she could get. No one would think to look for her here. At least not for a while. And from the frantic phone messages left by her two stepsons, they were definitely looking for her. She kept her phone turned off most of the time because she didn’t want David and Leon to find her anytime soon. Eventually, they’d hire someone to track her down. And she would be ready for them, digging in her heels and making a life for herself in Reno despite any objections they would have.


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