TOO HOT TO HANDLE Page 28

  "Then why in the world do you want to marry me?"

  "I don't. I need to get married. I have one year to settle down and marry, or I'll lose the only thing in the world I want that I don't have."

  "Huh?"

  "My grandfather owns the ranch I grew up on. He wants me to put an end to my single days, settle down, and have children, or he'll sell the ranch to a ski resort developer."

  "Why don't you just buy it yourself? You have money. How hard could it be?"

  "He's getting old. His health is failing. He says he wants to see me married in his lifetime. If I don't get married, I don't get the ranch. It's the only thing that I have left of my parents. It wouldn't be a real marriage, just a marriage in name until I can get the ranch. Once he signs it over, we can get an annulment or a divorce, and I promise we'll have a prenup that will leave you very comfortable."

  "Ben, I can't marry you."

  "Why not? You said yourself you and Mike are over. Your mother would be happy."

  "Yeah, until the divorce, but—"

  "Look, just think about it. You don't have to give me an answer right away. I wouldn't ask you, but I don't know anyone else I can trust not to get the wrong idea. I don't want to get married. And I know you don't want to marry me. It'll be great—you can move into my place. There's plenty of room, you'll have your studio here, and your commute will be a ride on the elevator. I'll pay for everything. Just think about it."

  "I can't."

  "Yes, you can. What do you have to lose?"

  She shook her head.

  "Nothing, that's what. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Hell, take the gallery if you want. I'll give it to you. Just help me get my home back. Please?"

  He looked so disheartened, so desperate. The guy who could have anything he wanted couldn't get the only thing he seemed to need. "Fine, I'll think about it. But I'm not promising anything."

  Ben tapped her desk and kissed her cheek. "Thanks. I'll have my lawyer draw up a prenup, and you can take a look at it."

  "I didn't say I'd do it."

  "No, but you said you'd think about it. Seeing the prenup might push you to the altar. Besides, wouldn't you want to own your own gallery?"

  "If I do this, I'd do it for you, not for the gallery."

  "Okay, but you treat the gallery as if it's yours anyway. We might as well make it official."

  She shrugged. "I'll think about it. Now, get out of here. I have work to do."

  "Thanks."

  "Don't thank me yet. I haven't agreed to anything. I said I'd think about it."

  "Fine. I'll get my lawyer on it right away. I'll have something for you to look at in the next couple of days."

  "No rush."

  "I have eleven months to find a bride. I have no other option than to rush."

  Mike drove home, and for the first time, he drove on autopilot. He became one with the car, he thought of nothing, felt nothing, and in no time, he drove over the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge. He didn't know how he got there. One moment he was trying to remember how to get back to Lancaster Avenue

  in Paoli, and the next he heard the familiar sounds of home.

  It made no difference who his father was, or how many millions he had in the bank, Brooklyn was home. He drove to Coney Island since he wasn't on call until seven o'clock. He just prayed for a busy night. Anything was better than dealing with the disaster his life had become in the last twenty-four hours. God, had it only been yesterday that he'd planned to spend the rest of his life with Annabelle? Yesterday when he was blissfully unaware and looking forward to the future? Now the only thing he looked forward to was the day he wouldn't think of her every minute of every hour. The day he wouldn't see the look on her face, the tears streaming down her cheeks as she took a sledgehammer to his life. The day he wouldn't feel the pain.

  Becca sat beside her father in the Benz. She'd wanted to drive because he was upset, but her father wouldn't hear of it. She counted herself lucky he'd allowed her to come at all. Of course, she would have followed him if he hadn't.

  She never took no for an answer, and she wasn't about to start now. Not when things were really getting interesting. If Becca read her father right, the man was afraid. For the first time in her life, she saw her father as human with real feelings.

  Her mother tortured people who showed any emotion. Her father never showed any—probably for self-preservation. Becca grew up thinking he had no feelings, never knowing he'd kept them hidden all this time.

  Today something snapped and made it impossible for him to disguise his feelings. Maybe he finally saw all he'd lost. She wasn't sure, but whatever caused his display of emotion made her want to help him for the first time since she was a little girl. Her parents had deserted her and Chip when they needed them most. Maybe not physically or monetarily, but emotionally they'd left them alone to deal with all life threw at them, and life threw a hell of a curve ball.

  "Daddy, you're speeding."

  He stared straight ahead, the stress evident on his face. "Do you have the address?"

  "Yes. I programmed it in the GPS. Remember?"

  "I know, but she probably lives in an apartment. I need the apartment number."

  "What you need to do is call. Showing up unannounced isn't a good idea. It'll be a shock. Besides, how do you know she'll even be home?"

  "Becca, either way it's going to be a shock. If Mike hasn't spoken to her yet, then maybe she'll listen to me. If he's already spoken to her, chances are … I don't know. I haven't set eyes on her in thirty-three years. I used to know what she was thinking. I used to know what she was going to say before she said it. Now, I don't know anything. All I know is I need to see her, and I need to make sure Mike is okay. If she's not there, I'll wait outside her door for as long as it takes."

  "He probably went to the hospital. From what Annabelle said, he practically lives there."

  "Her again?"

  "Yes, Daddy. Annabelle is my best friend. She never did anything to deserve the way you and mother treated her. Why can't you see that? Mother was so afraid of losing her Queen of the Castle status, she tried to drive Annabelle and every other woman Chip dated away. Not that any woman in her right mind would want to share a residence with Mother, there is no estate large enough if you ask me."

  "She was living with him on his dime."

  "If she was after the money, why didn't Annabelle marry Chip when he'd asked her? Chip knew he was dying, he had nothing more to lose, and she would eventually get the money. He offered to marry her. She refused not because she didn't love him, but because she didn't want to prove you and Mother right. She didn't want a cent from either of you or the estate."

  Well, that got him thinking. "Annabelle worked. That money in their joint account you and Mother took was money she earned and had saved for school. Chip was cheap as hell. He paid half the bills. She took care of everything else. You left her penniless. I had to give her train fare back to Brooklyn. Why did you think it was a year before I spoke to you again? I only did that because I had to."

  He took his eyes from the road and stared at her. She'd hit the target she never knew existed. She never thought he'd even noticed she'd disappeared from his life for a year. He reached over and squeezed her hand.

  "You know Mother. People like her believe everyone is as vengeful as they are. She expected Annabelle to behave as she did when she was in the same situation. How long were you married before she made life so miserable for Uncle Aaron, Aunt Carol, and their kids that they left the family estate?"

  No need to answer, because his expression told the story. Shame. Pain. Embarrassment.

  It was past time she told him what she thought and cleared the air. She was an adult, and she no longer needed her parents. She hadn't in years. "All Annabelle ever did to Chip was love and care for him. Believe me, Daddy, Chip was not an easy person to love. He was brought up to think the sun and moon revolved around him. He was spoiled, and thanks to you and Mom, he had a warped view o
f love." Becca drew her sweater around her, either the air conditioner or her father froze her out. "It took Annabelle a long time to get over Chip. She loves Mike now, and whether or not he admits it, Mike loves her. He wanted to marry her. If you make him choose between you and Annabelle, you better believe he's going to choose her." If he ever gets his head out of his ass. "This is the second time someone in my family broke Annabelle's heart. She should have told Mike about Chip, but who could blame her for not wanting to see history repeat itself."

  "If we were so off base, why didn't Chip say anything? Why didn't she?"

  "Chip was more concerned about losing his trust than he was about her. Annabelle was eighteen. She was a child when she allowed you and Mother to treat her so badly. She's a grown woman now, and she's strong. She'd rather let the man she loves go and keep her dignity and self-respect. She'll never again allow anyone to treat her as if she were a second-class citizen. That's why she's not fighting for Mike. She doesn't want to come between him and this so-called family."

  Becca crossed her arms, pulled her leg under her, and turned her back to the door so she faced her father. "Mother was always a monster, and you allowed her to treat Annabelle like that. That makes you as guilty as she is."

  "I never … I guess I didn't realize."

  "No, Daddy. Be honest. It was easier to allow Mother to destroy Annabelle than it would have been to go against your wife and put yourself in the line of fire. There was nothing in it for you. You two led separate lives, and as long as Mother left you alone, you didn't concern yourself with the people she targeted … until you found out that she was behind the whole marriage announcement, and you and Mike's mom were her first victims. That's when you divorced her. That was the only thing she'd done to anyone you cared enough about to retaliate."

  "When did you get so smart?"

  She laughed in relief. "Brains were never lacking in our gene pool, just humanity."

  "Not with you it wasn't."

  "Ha. I just learned a lesson early on, and all the years of therapy you and Mother insisted I needed helped, too."

  He shot her a cocky grin, making him look much younger than his sixty years. It made him look surprisingly like Mike.

  "Hey, after a few years of messing with my therapists' heads, I decided to turn my punishment into a gift. I got my head on straight."

  He grinned again.

  "Okay, as straight as it can be, considering."

  "I've always admired your spunk, Rebecca. You've grown up to be quite a ballbuster. I really like that about you."

  "Except when I use it against you."

  "Even then. Yesterday, you purposely showed off your piercing and your tattoo when you knew I couldn't say a word about it. That was the plan, wasn't it?"

  Busted. "Of course. Pushing your buttons is something of a hobby of mine. It's nice to get a reaction from you."

  "I'm sorry you feel the need to resort to shock to get my attention."

  Is that what she'd done? Damn, maybe she wasn't so smart after all.

  Lost in thought, she considered what her father said and what she wanted from him. She'd all but given up on both of her parents, but today, for the first time in years, she saw a glimmer of hope. Maybe a seminormal relationship with her father was possible after all.

  "This neighborhood sure has changed. When I lived down here, it was like a war zone."

  She was surprised to see they were already in Brooklyn. "Why did you live here then?"

  "It was all I could afford at the time. I wasn't old enough to get my trust fund, and your grandparents didn't think any son of theirs should go into medicine. That's why they started the grandfather trust. They threatened me with it, and I told them to go to hell. Sometimes you remind me of myself when I was still young and idealistic. I was going to save the world."

  "What happened?"

  "I lost Colleen. I honestly didn't think I could go on. After two years I gave up. That was the worst night of my life. After a night of drinking myself into a stupor, I awoke with your mother—"

  "She got pregnant, and you did the right thing."

  "That's when I learned that sometimes good things come from bad decisions. I got you and Chip. I can't regret that. But I'm not sure I did the right thing by marrying your mother. I don't think I did you and Chip any favors. I'm sorry."

  He parked the car on a side street. It was almost six in the evening, and he slid out of the car and looked around.

  "I used to live in that building over there." He pointed to a four-story brownstone.

  "It's beautiful."

  "It wasn't then. It had been broken up into studio apartments. The pipes rattled, there was no hot water, and more often than not, no heat, but I can't remember a time I was ever happier. I think Colleen's place is just up the block."

  Becca followed her father into a simple brick apartment building. He took a deep breath as he read the list of residents. A woman with two children in a stroller left the building. Her dad held the door for the woman and walked in without announcing himself. "Come on."

  "Dad, I really think we should ring her apartment."

  "So she could tell me to go to hell over a speaker? I don't think so. It's much harder to reject someone standing in front of you, and I'll take any advantage I can get. I'm going up. You can wait out in the car if you'd like. I'd actually prefer it."

  "Not on your life."

  "I knew you'd say that."

  Chapter 19

  Christopher Larsen entered Colleen's building with Becca following fast on his heels. He hit the button for the elevator, and when that took too long, he took the stairs two at a time to the third floor. He scoped out the apartment and knocked. When no one answered, he knocked again. "Coming."

  The locks tumbled; the deadbolt rolled. "Michael, did you forget your key?" The door swung open, and then there was dead silence.

  Becca felt as if she were watching a play. Her father stood tall, his hands in his pockets, something she'd never seen him do. He was fastidious about his clothes. Standing with your hands in your pockets stretched out the material, and maybe hid one's nervousness.

  Colleen Flynn was beautiful. Reddish blonde hair, petite, with gorgeous gray eyes wide with surprise. Mike had his mother's eyes.

  "Colleen."

  She held the door like a lifeline, swallowed, and pasted on a smile that was more nervous than sincere. "Christopher."

  The two of them stared at each other for what seemed like hours. Becca could only guess the silent conversation going on between them. And there was definitely one going on. Becca coughed, breaking the connection. She waited for her father to introduce her, but he didn't. She smiled and held out her hand. "Hi, I'm Rebecca Larsen."

  Colleen shook Becca's hand without once taking her eyes off Christopher.

  "Oh, I'm sorry, please come in. I was just in the kitchen. I have a roast in the oven. My son called and wanted some comfort food. He's upset."

  Christopher took a step toward her. "He told you?"

  Becca had never heard his voice sound like that. Deep, full of uncertainty and something else she really didn't care to think about.

  "No. I didn't ask while he was working. Michael tells me things in his own time. He's a grown man, after all. Now, isn't he?"

  Becca's dad nodded. "He's a fine man."

  "And how would you know?"

  "I spent much of the day with him."

  "Did you, now? I suppose it was your practice where Michael interviewed."

  "Colleen."

  She held up her hand. "Why don't you come in so we're not airing the dirty laundry out in the hallway?"

  Becca's temper started to boil. "There is no dirty laundry."

  Colleen looked from Becca to Christopher. "I see your daughter has your temper."

  Christopher nodded. "And our son has yours."

  "Touché."

  The woman had a lovely, soft Irish accent. She looked a little pale, but if Becca hadn't seen the color leave her
face, she'd never guess Colleen had just had the shock of her life.

  Colleen closed the door and showed them into her apartment. It was nice—normal. Nothing like the monstrosity where Becca grew up and her father still lived. Colleen's home was comfortable and warm. The scent of pot roast and homemade bread filled the small apartment, and Becca found herself relaxing.

  "I'll fix a pot of tea, and you can tell me why my son is upset."

  She pointed them to the dining room table, large enough for four, nothing like the table that sat thirty in the main dining room or the one that sat fourteen in the family dining room. Becca sat at the highly polished table and imagined Colleen doing normal things like cleaning her own home and polishing the furniture.

  Her father didn't sit at the table, but followed Colleen to the kitchen. She began to wonder what in the world she was doing there as she watched him stop right behind Colleen, place his hands on her shoulders, and speak so softly Becca wasn't sure if she heard him correctly. She'd never heard him sound afraid.

  "You must hate me."

  Colleen wrapped her arms around herself and shook her head. "How could I hate you when you've given me the one person I love most in this world? I've never hated you."

  "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding."

  "Misunderstanding? Is that what you call it now?" She had fire in her eyes. "You were engaged, Christopher. You cheated, and you call that a misunderstanding?" What started out as an Irish lilt became more pronounced.

  He shook his head. "My family wanted me to marry Bitsy. I never wanted that. I should have stood up for myself and said no earlier. I let them think what they wanted. I never cheated on you. Not once. Don't you understand?"

  "No, you cheated with me. You turned my love for you into something ugly."

  "I wasn't engaged. Not really. That was just something our parents cooked up. I went home that week to end it. I refused to let it go any further. I wasn't anything but madly in love with you."

  "But I saw that engagement announcement in the society pages. My mother saw it."

  "I'm so sorry. Bitsy and our parents ran it after I ended the sham of an engagement. I had nothing to do with it."