Written In The Heart. Judith Stacy

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      She cringed. It was Aunt Eleanor, and by the sound of her voice she was drawing closer.

      “Hurry.” Caroline caught Stephen’s arm and tugged him toward the door. He didn’t budge. Didn’t even sway. It was like pulling on a tree trunk.

      “Mr. Monterey, you really must—”

      “Why, Caroline, who have we here?”

      She spun around as Aunt Eleanor glided into the foyer. Too late. She was trapped.

      Caroline dropped Stephen’s arm and stepped a discreet distance away.

      “No one, Aunt Eleanor,” she said. “Just some vagrant asking for a handout.”

      “Why, Caroline, how you do tease.”

      Aunt Eleanor crossed the room, her hand extended. She was a tall, thin woman with gray hair and an uninspired wardrobe. But she was the epitome of social graces, a gentlewoman who always did the right thing and never stopped striving for perfection. In others, as much as herself.

      “I know quite well who this gentleman is,” Aunt Eleanor said. “Mr. Monterey, it’s so very nice to have you here. What a pleasant surprise. I’m Mrs. Eleanor Markham, Caroline’s aunt.”

      Stephen removed his derby and took her hand. “Very nice to meet you, Mrs. Markham.”

      Her gaze shifted between the two of them. “I take it you’ve come to call on Caroline?”

      His gaze settled on Caroline. “Actually, I have.”

      Aunt Eleanor fairly beamed with pleasure. A big smile stretched across her face and her eyes glazed over.

      Caroline didn’t blame her aunt. Stephen did look exceptionally handsome this morning. He wore a dark blue suit with pleated trousers and a high buttoned vest. His shirt, with its starched collar, was snowy white, contrasting with his gray-striped necktie.

      But Stephen’s good looks weren’t what held Aunt Eleanor’s attention. She’d spotted her prey—a highly eligible bachelor—and was plotting her next move.

      “Caroline never mentioned that you two had met.” Aunt Eleanor laughed gently. “And here I was planning another round of parties for her. Her father will be so pleased when he hears the news. And so quickly after arriving in the city, too.”

      A slow smile spread over Stephen’s face.

      Caroline didn’t like the look of that smile. Something was behind it. Something calculating. She cautioned herself to be on guard.

      “Come into the parlor, Mr. Monterey,” Aunt Eleanor said, guiding him to the room off the foyer.

      Stephen folded himself onto the peach settee and tucked his long legs behind a marble-topped table. Caroline considered making a break for the door while she still could, but didn’t want to leave him at the mercy of her aunt; she didn’t dislike him that much.

      Aunt Eleanor took the chair directly across from Stephen. “So, tell me, how did you two meet?” she asked.

      Caroline perched on the piano stool, the farthest seat from Stephen. Now was when better lying skills would come in handy. Her brain spun, trying to invent some reasonable story that didn’t involve last night’s escapade, when she’d been mistaken for a prostitute. Nothing came to her.

      She sighed, forced to tell the truth. At least an abbreviated version of it.

      “Actually, Aunt Eleanor, I was at Mr. Monterey’s home last night,” Caroline said. “I stopped by to see a sick friend.”

      Aunt Eleanor nodded. “Oh, yes, your cousin Sophie said that you’d gone to visit someone on West Adams Boulevard.”

      Caroline seethed. Darn her cousin. She’d promised not to tell. Goodness, relatives were proving to be more than inconvenient—a downright pain in the neck.

      “So, who did you visit?” Aunt Eleanor asked.

      Caroline pressed her lips together. “Well, actually—”

      “My aunt,” Stephen said.

      A wave of profound gratitude washed over Caroline. Their gazes met and Stephen Monterey suddenly took on the look of a knight in the shiniest armor ever imagined.

      “My aunt Delfina,” Stephen explained. “Perhaps you know her, Mrs. Markham?”

      “I’ve never had the pleasure, but I’ve heard of her, of course.” Aunt Eleanor rose from her chair. “I’ll have Bessie prepare us some tea. Caroline, do make Mr. Monterey comfortable.”

      Eleanor smiled knowingly and disappeared out of the parlor.

      Caroline watched her leave, then turned to Stephen, and suddenly he didn’t look like a knight in shining anything. He was smirking. Actually smirking. Oh, he was trying very hard to hide it, but that was definitely a smirk she saw on his face.

      Caroline rose from the piano stool. “Why are you here?”

      “I’m here about the position we discussed,” he said.

      The position on the desktop? Caroline bit into her lip, forcing the image out of her head. Goodness, why couldn’t she stop thinking about that?

      “The position of graphologist,” Stephen said.

      “Oh, yes, of course.”

      “I’m here to convince you to accept my job offer,” Stephen said.

      “I don’t want to work for you.”

      “Everyone wants to work for me.”

      He was pompous and arrogant…and devilishly good-looking. Caroline struggled to hold on to her anger against the onslaught of his masculine presence, which overwhelmed Aunt Eleanor’s delicately furnished parlor. He was far too rugged for doilies and lace.

      “I, Mr. Monterey, am not everyone.” Caroline stared down at him, and it made her feel superior to do so.

      That feeling lasted only a few more seconds, until Stephen rose from the settee and towered over her. He folded his arms across his chest.

      “So, tell me, Miss Sommerfield, why do you refuse to come to work for me?”

      There were a dozen reasons—and there were none. Caroline had lain awake most of the night reliving the short time she’d been in his house, in his presence. She’d tossed and turned, wrestling with emotions she’d never imagined before. Stephen had managed to take over most of her thoughts, somehow, and no one—not one single person—had ever done that.

      He had consumed her, and the scary part was that he would continue to do so. Caroline had sensed that in him the first moment they met, even though she couldn’t put a name to the feeling at the time. He would devour her and all she believed in, until there was nothing left of herself.

      Caroline eased away from him, needing the distance, hoping that space between them would ease the СКАЧАТЬ