“Oh, you want me,” he whispered confidently into her ear. “Of
that I’m certain.” Pulling away and taking all the night’s warmth with him, he
met her gaze and smiled widely. “Good night, Miss Sullivan.”
She watched him stroll confidently down the sidewalk and
disappear around the corner. She waited until the night was silent and still
before she let the air out of her lungs. That man had managed to build a fire in
her she hadn’t expected, especially considering how much she despised him. This
was a dangerous game, but if he was trying to seduce her into selling, it would
at least be more pleasurable than fighting. Especially when he lost.
A smile of amusement curled her lips. “Oh, you only think you
won this round, Wade Mitchell. But the fun is just beginning.”
Three
B
y the time Wade returned to the farm that
night, the lights in the big house were all out except for the front porch and
the kitchen. His parents had always been early to bed, early to rise, as most
farmers were. Thank goodness for the bunkhouse.
The renovated barn referred to as “the bunkhouse” had been
where all the boys slept and played as kids. The historic Federal-style house
that came with the farm was large, but old in style and design, never renovated
to have enough bedrooms and bathrooms to accommodate an ever-changing herd of
boys and Julianne all at once. But none of the boys minded the separation.
The bunkhouse had been the perfect boys’ retreat, and Julianne
spent her fair share of time over there, as well. The entire downstairs was an
open living area where they could do their homework, watch television, play
video games and Ping-Pong, and roughhouse without breaking anything important.
They even had their own mini-kitchen with a refrigerator, microwave and sink. As
growing boys they were starving at all hours, and Molly didn’t want them running
across the yard to the house in the cold and dark.
Upstairs were two huge bedrooms and adjoining baths. The rooms
had twin beds and a set of bunk beds to accommodate up to six foster boys at one
time. In addition to Wade and his brothers, there had been other children who
came but didn’t stay long because they went back to their parents or were
adopted by relatives. They rarely had an empty bed back then.
These days there were just the four of them, each having
outgrown bunk beds. Molly had redecorated after they all moved out, and each
room now had two queen-size beds. Typically the kids all arrived back at the
farm at the same time: Christmas Eve. The big house hadn’t gotten any larger in
the past decade, so the boys found themselves back in the bunkhouse.
Since he was the only one there, Wade could stay in the
upstairs guest room of the big house. At least until Christmas when the others
arrived. But somehow that felt wrong. Instead, he carried Molly’s requested
groceries inside the big house, put them away and then locked the back door
behind him. He grabbed the rest of his things from the hatch of his SUV and
rolled his suitcase over to the bunkhouse.
Anticipating his move, Molly had left the porch light on, and
on the mini-kitchen counter was a slice of lemon pound cake wrapped in
cellophane and a note welcoming him home.
As he read the note he smiled and set the rest of his groceries
beside it. He stashed a small case of water, cream cheese, Sumatran coffee beans
and a six-pack of his favorite microbrewed dark ale in the fridge. He left the
bagels and a bag of pretzels on the counter beside the cake.
God, it was nice to be home.
His loft apartment in Tribeca was nice—it should be,
considering what he paid for it. But it didn’t feel like home. With its big
glass windows and concrete floors, it was a little too modern in design to feel
welcoming. It was chic and functional, which is what he thought he liked when he
bought it. But it wasn’t until he set foot in this old barn with the battered
table-tennis table and ancient two-hundred-pound television that he could truly
relax.
Things hadn’t changed much in the bunkhouse. The futon where he
first made out with Anna Chissom was still in the corner. She’d been his first
girlfriend, a shy, quiet redhead who kicked off a long string of auburn-haired
women in his life. The latest, of course, was giving him the most grief. But he
still wished he could pull Victoria down onto the futon and finish what they’d
started outside that bar.
He’d done it intending to get under her skin and punish her for
dumping that drink on him. Then he found he liked touching her. Teasing her. He
enjoyed the flush upon her creamy fair skin. The soft parting of her lips
inviting him to kiss her. She responded to him, whether she wanted to or not,
exposing her weakness. Now he just had to take advantage of it. There were worse
negotiating tactics. Yet she wasn’t the only one suffering. He wanted to feel
her mouth against his. And not just so she’d sell him her land.
Wade flopped back onto the couch and eyed his watch. It was
only nine-thirty. He didn’t normally go to bed until well after eleven,
especially on the weekends. He was tempted to pull out his laptop and get some
work done but was interrupted by the faint melody of his phone.
It was Brody’s ringtone—the dramatic pipe-organ melody of the
theme to
The Phantom of the Opera.
It was a
long-running family joke, considering his computer-genius brother was pretty
much living out the plotline as a scarred recluse. But when you had the kind of
life that most of the Eden boys had lived, you developed a pretty thick skin and
a dark sense of humor to make it through.
“Hey, Brody,” Wade answered.
“Wade.” His brother’s tone was cautious and, as always,
serious.
“No,” Wade said, cutting off the next question. “I went out to
the property to talk to the owner, but there’s a…
complication.
”
Brody sighed heavily. “I knew this wouldn’t be as easy as you
seemed to think.”
“I said a complication, not a complete failure, Debbie Downer.
It’s just not going to be open-and-shut. The owner is reluctant to sell.”
“Even at double the price?”
“I offered her half a million and she turned me down flat.”
Brody groaned on the line. “Why on earth would she turn that
down? Half a million dollars is a lot to just push aside.”
“Well, it’s partially my fault.” And technically, it was. He
had the feeling Victoria Sullivan might’ve sold the land if any of his brothers
had shown up at her doorstep. But not Wade. Oh, no. She was bound and determined
to get back at him for firing her, even though it was her own doing.
“What did you do?” Brody asked in the same sharp tone he’d
always used as a child. Whenever one of the other boys lamented about being
punished, those were always the first words out of his mouth. Brody was the one
who never got into trouble, who never did anything wrong. He was too worried
about being punished, thanks to his abusive father. Brody was always happiest
sitting at his computer, whether he was playing games or helping Molly upgrade
to the latest financial management software. He never got into trouble.
“I didn’t
do
anything. She just
doesn’t like me. She used to work for me years ago.”
“Did you sleep with her?”
Wade couldn’t help snorting into the phone at his brother’s
assumption that this had to be a spurned lover. Compared to the lifestyle of his
brother, he supposed he appeared to be a bit of a dog when it came to the
ladies. “Then or now?” he teased.
“Either.”
“No, I’ve never slept with her.” Despite the fact that he would
like to. Very much. He eyed the mostly dry spot on the crotch of his pants and
smiled. She was a feisty one, for sure. He was certain they’d have a hell of a
time in bed. But if she didn’t like him enough to conduct a business deal, she
probably didn’t like him enough to take her clothes off for him.
Well, at least not yet. He’d seen the passion blazing in her
pale blue eyes as he’d pinned her against that wall tonight. She wanted him, all
right. But she was too stubborn to give in to it.
“I fired her. For cause, I might add. She still seems to be a
little perturbed about that.”
“I knew we should’ve sent Xander. No one can say no to
him.”
Their brother Xander was a Connecticut congressman. He was
smooth, charming, likable and well-spoken. Everything a good politician needed
to be. He would be perfect to handle the situation, if he were available. “Well,
Xander is busy negotiating the country out of a huge deficit, so you’re stuck
with me. I can make this happen. I assure you. It just isn’t going to get done
in a day. She’s going to take some convincing.”
“What can I do to help it along? Run a background check? See if
I can dig up any information on her?”
“That wouldn’t hurt, although I doubt you’ll come up with
anything useful. At least, not anything blackmail worthy. I get the feeling her
faux pas at my company was a fluke.”
“Maybe there’s something in her history you can use to soften
her up. It will make me feel like I’m doing something.”
Wade could hear the aggravation in his brother’s voice. Brody
wanted to help, but not much could be done from the supersecure corporate
offices of his software empire in Boston. His brother was brilliant, had built a
company that rivaled Google and Facebook, but Brody didn’t go out in public. The
only time anyone saw him was when he came home for Christmas or Easter. The rest
of the time it was just he and his secretary, Agnes, on the top floor of his
Boston high-rise.
It was a damn shame. If Brody’s biological father ever got
parole, Wade would make him wish he’d stayed in jail. The kind of bastard who
would dump battery acid on his young son’s face didn’t deserve to see the light
of day. Especially not when his son didn’t get to see it, either.
“For now, some good intel may be all I need to convince her.
She doesn’t like me, but if I know what buttons to push, maybe I can change her
mind. Look into her company for me and some of her recent projects. I’ll send
you the basic info to get started. I know she’s passionate about her work. That
might be all it takes. If I’m right, and this is the right property, once I
secure it, there won’t be any more trouble. If she holds out, maybe you and I
can go out in the dark over the holiday and start digging holes.”
“Digging holes in the dark?”
“You said you wanted to help,” Wade pointed out, only half
joking. If the shovels came out, they had big, big problems.
“Don’t let it get to that point, Wade. This isn’t a missing
time capsule we’re looking for here. It’s a dead man’s body. One that we all
share some responsibility for putting into the ground. It absolutely can’t be
found. Do whatever it takes to fix this. It could ruin all our reputations—maybe
even our companies. Who wants to do business with someone involved in the death
of—”
“Just stop,” Wade interrupted. He didn’t even want the words
spoken aloud.
“This could kill Dad with his heart condition. I don’t want
another death on my conscience.”
Neither did Wade. It would probably do all that and more. And
if it didn’t kill Ken, Wade was certain he wouldn’t be able to bear the look of
disappointment on his father’s face. He’d spent his whole life trying to be good
enough. For his teenage birth mother, who had dumped him on an old relative. For
the foster families that had passed him around like a hot potato. For the Edens,
who had treated him like their son. He couldn’t, wouldn’t disappoint Ken and
Molly.
He’d already failed fifteen years ago to protect his brothers
and sister as he should have. Wade wouldn’t make that same mistake twice.
“I’ll handle it,” he promised. “One way or another.”
* * *
“Welcome to the Garden of Eden Tree Farm. I hope we can
help you have a very merry Christmas!”
The moment Tori crossed the threshold into the gift shop among
the jingling of bells, Molly Eden greeted her from her post behind the counter.
Tori had met the older woman once, at closing, but there had been paperwork to
sign and not much time for chitchat.
Today she was determined to change that. Wade thought he could
sneak around town and get information on her. Well, two could play at that game.
And what better source than his mother? He claimed his family was more important
than anything, even money. Spending some quality time with them under the guise
of Christmas shopping was the perfect way to do a little digging of her own.
“Oh, Miss Sullivan!” Molly came out from behind the counter
with a wide smile that was bookended by rosy cheeks. The woman was tiny and
round, with gray-blond hair swept up into a neat bun at the back of her head. In
about ten more years, once her hair had gone completely white, she’d make the
perfect Mrs. Claus. And judging by her surroundings, Tori was pretty sure that
was the plan all along.
“Please call me Tori.”
“Only if you call me Molly, dear. We’re neighbors, after all.”
Molly embraced her as though they were lifelong friends instead of acquaintances
through real estate.
Tori smiled. She couldn’t help it. The woman was just so damn
sweet. How was it that she could raise a sneaky corporate weasel like Wade?
“That we are.”
She noticed that nothing in the woman’s tone or expression
conveyed any hint of concern about the fact that Tori lived on her old land. The
same was true when they’d met at closing. Neither she nor Ken had seemed
bothered at all by it. In fact, Ken had appeared a little relieved. She
remembered Ken had commented that they were getting to an age where nearly three
hundred acres was a lot of land to deal with. Tori’s piece was too rocky and
sloped to grow trees. The other two larger plots were the same. No great loss
there.
So why did it bother Wade so much that they’d sold it? It made
Tori wonder if his parents even knew what he was up to. The burning, childish
urge to tattle on him swirled in her gut. It would be so easy. Even a
millionaire CEO could be brought down by the wrath of his mama.
But somehow that didn’t seem like fighting fair. They hadn’t
taken the gloves off yet. She’d reserve that tactic until it was absolutely
necessary. In the meantime, there wasn’t any harm in being neighborly. She
wasn’t very good at it, since her neighbors typically changed out every few
weeks, but she was willing to give it a try.
“So what brings you by today? Do you need a tree?”
“Oh, no,” Tori said. “I don’t have room for one in my little
trailer. When the house is finished, I’ll get one for sure. But for now I
thought I might pick up one of the lovely fresh pine wreaths you put together.
When I was down at Daisy’s the other night, the waitress Rose was bragging on
your artistic skills.”