A Child Shall Lead Them. Carole Page Gift

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ in love with in my fantasies!

      I’ve got to see Eric first, Bree decided. I’ll break the news to him, and then together we’ll tell his parents.

      Brianna quickly showered, applied a touch of makeup and changed into a sedate pantsuit, a pale charcoal gray, as bleak as the news she was delivering. She ran a brush through her long straight hair, then twisted it into an austere chignon. She was the bearer of bad news and might as well look the part.

      On her way out the door, her father stopped her and enquired where she was going at a time like this. She told him, and shook her head when he again offered to drive her. “No, Daddy, I’ve got to do this myself. Marnie was my friend. Her family deserves to hear the news from me, not from some anonymous voice from the hospital, and not even from you.”

      “I’m not saying you can’t go and break the news yourself,” he protested. “Just let me drive you, honey.”

      “No, Daddy. I’ve got to keep busy and keep my mind off Marnie. I’ll feel better driving myself.”

      She wasn’t even sure that was the truth; she just knew she had to carry out this mission alone. Having her father drive her would make her feel like a little girl again, too soft and helpless. She was going to need all the grit and courage she could summon to face Marnie’s family.

      It took her less than a half-hour to drive to the oceanfront business plaza where Eric Wingate had his office. It was a modern three-story complex of stucco and brick, with a red tile roof and expansive floor-to-ceiling tinted windows. Flanking the parking area was a manicured lawn studded with graceful palm trees and colorful flower boxes. An appealing place to work.

      Brianna entered the lobby and found the appropriate office at the end of the hall on the second floor. The sign on the door read, CRAWFORD, WINGATE AND ASSOCIATES. So Eric was already a partner in the company—a successful man by anyone’s standards.

      She entered gingerly, her breath catching, heart pounding. What would this man be like that she had met only in her dreams and forged solely in her imagination? How could she break this terrible news to him? What could she say to ease his grief?

      “May I help you?” asked the receptionist, a sophisticated woman in her late twenties. Bree’s face warmed with embarrassment as she realized she had been standing there for several moments lost in thought. “I’d like to see Mr. Wingate.”

      “Do you have an appointment?”

      “No, but I need to speak to him. It’s very important.”

      The receptionist looked at her appointment book. “I can schedule you for tomorrow at nine-thirty.”

      “No, you don’t understand,” Bree rushed on miserably. “I’ve got to see him now. It’s a…a personal matter.”

      The receptionist was obviously well-trained in screening clients and fending off peddlers and solicitors. “What did you say your name was?”

      “Brianna Rowlands. But he doesn’t know me. Please, I have some important information for him.”

      “I’m sorry, Miss Rowlands, but whatever you’re selling—”

      “I’m not selling anything!” Bree exclaimed, too loudly.

      An office door opened suddenly, and a tall young man in a three-piece suit stepped out and flashed a quizzical glance.

      Eric Wingate! She would know him anywhere! The same riveting eyes and sculpted features that she had memorized from Marnie’s photographs.

      “Is there a problem, Natalie?”

      “No, Mr. Wingate. This lady wants to see you, but she doesn’t have an appointment.”

      As Eric Wingate turned his gaze on Brianna, she felt her knees weaken. She reached out for the corner of the desk. Eric Wingate was far more than his photographs. Easily the handsomest, most imposing man she had ever seen. With the tanned, ruddy glow of a California surfer, he looked as if he had stepped from the pages of a sports magazine. Yet intelligence and sensitivity were etched in his strong masculine features…a solid jaw, patrician nose, and dark brows crouching over intense mahogany-brown eyes. His thick dark hair was stylishly cut, but looked tousled, as if he had a habit of raking his fingers through it while perusing a contract or brief.

      “You want to see me?” he enquired in a deep, resonant voice.

      “Yes, Mr. Wingate, I do. I…I’m Brianna Rowlands.” Still clutching the edge of the desk, she felt light-headed, woozy. The room was warm and the events of the day were catching up with her. When had she last eaten? She couldn’t recall. Was it really just this morning that she had lost her cherished friend?

      Brianna’s knees buckled.

      In that instant Eric Wingate sprang forward and caught her in his arms. “Hold my next appointment, Natalie.” Masterfully he swept her up, holding her against his solid chest, and carried her into his office. He eased her gently into a plush leather chair and brought her a cup of cold water from the water cooler. She drank haltingly, on the verge of tears and fighting waves of shame and dread. She wasn’t handling this situation well at all. Instead of approaching Eric Wingate from a position of dignity and poise, she had collapsed at his feet in a pitiful bundle of nerves. She had never felt more vulnerable or exposed.

      Eric presented her with his monogrammed handkerchief, then sat down at his immense mahogany desk. He didn’t take his eyes off her. “How can I help you, Miss Rowlands?” he asked with genuine concern.

      “You can’t help me,” she said, blotting her eyes with the linen handkerchief. “This isn’t…it’s not about me.”

      He sat forward and tented his sturdy fingers, his gaze more piercing than ever. “Why don’t you tell me what this is about.”

      “It’s Marnie,” she managed to say at last.

      His eyebrows shot up. “Marnie?”

      “Your sister.”

      He frowned. “My sister is in Europe studying.”

      Bree swallowed a sob. “No…I’m afraid she’s not.”

      “Of course, she is. I got a postcard from her last week.”

      “She wanted you to think she was in Europe, but she’s been right here in California all summer.”

      Eric’s dark eyes narrowed. “That’s impossible. You must have my sister confused with someone else.”

      “No, Mr. Wingate. There’s no mistake. I’m sorry.”

      “Sorry? Why? What’s going on here?”

      She blotted her eyes again. “I’m handling this badly. I…I have some bad news for you. I wanted to tell you myself. I didn’t want it coming from strangers, although I realize I…I’m a stranger, too….” She let her voice drift off.

      It dawned on her that she was memorizing his face, the glint of bafflement in his eyes, the curve of his lips, the rugged cut of his chin. In a moment everything would change and he would never be the same again. She held that power in her hands—to СКАЧАТЬ