Scent Of Roses. Kat Martin

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      “Elizabeth! I didn’t realize you would be here!” It was Gwen Petersen. She was there with her husband, Jim, district manager for Wells Fargo Bank, and apparently she was a good friend of Elizabeth’s.

      “I hadn’t planned to come until Carson was kind enough to invite me. I meant to call you. I’ve just been so busy.”

      Gwen’s gaze swung from Elizabeth to Carson, lingered there a moment as if she were contemplating the two of them together, then she smiled.

      “Well, what a nice idea.” She was a petite woman with red hair and attractive features. She and her husband had a couple of little boys, if he recalled correctly, and he usually did.

      Carson returned her smile. “I think it was a very good idea.”

      Gwen’s gaze returned to her friend. “I’ll call you the first of the week. We definitely need to have lunch.”

      Elizabeth nodded. “See you then.”

      It was nearly time to start the proceedings. Carson seated Elizabeth at the white-draped head table and took a seat beside her.

      The room began to quiet as the last of the guests took their places at the tables. The benefit was being held in the banquet room of the Holiday Inn, where most local occasions took place.

      Carson introduced Elizabeth to the other people seated at the front of the room, some of whom she knew, and they all conversed politely as dinner was served, the usual rubber chicken in some kind of dull brown gravy, lukewarm mashed potatoes and overcooked broccoli. Dessert followed, a decent chocolate mousse that managed to satisfy the holes in his appetite the scant meal had been unable to fill.

      Then the speeches began. Sam Marston talked about the progress they were making at the youth farm. John Dillon, one of the high school counselors, spoke about the opportunities the farm provided for troubled teenage boys. Carson was introduced last and received a big round of applause.

      He straightened his tuxedo jacket as he moved behind the podium. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. It’s gratifying to see such a fantastic turnout for such a worthy cause.” More applause. He’d always liked the sound of it. “Sam told you a little about the farm. Let me tell you a little about the boys enrolled in Teen Vision.”

      He began with a brief history of some of the youths who had graduated from the farm. By the time he had finished describing the tragedies suffered by some of the young men and how Teen Vision had changed their lives, the entire hall had fallen completely silent.

      “You’ve all been generous in your contributions. I hope you’ll continue to support the farm as you have in the past. Tonight we’ll be accepting donations. Just take your checks over to the table next to the door and Mrs. Grayson will give you a receipt you can use for your income taxes.”

      Everyone applauded vigorously and Carson sat back down next to Elizabeth.

      “You were wonderful,” she said, her pretty blue eyes shining. “You really painted a picture of what those boys have suffered.”

      He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s a very worthwhile project. I’m happy to help in any way I can.”

      She was looking up at him and smiling. He liked that in a woman, that she appreciated a man and let him know it. And he liked the way she looked in that dress, sexy yet classy. Not too overblown. With a little more money to spend on the suits she wore, she would even look good in those.

      “The band is starting to play,” he said. “Why don’t we dance?”

      Elizabeth smiled. “I’d love to.” She rose from her chair and led the way to the dance floor. Carson watched the sway of her behind and smiled approvingly. Sexy but not too flashy, a good memory for names, he had discovered, and a decent conversationalist, as well.

      Interesting.

      A slow song began. He eased her into his arms and her hands slid up around his neck. They stepped into the music as if they had danced together a dozen times and he liked the way their bodies fit together.

      “You’re a very good dancer,” she said.

      “I try.” He thought of the ballroom dance lessons his mother had insisted he take when he was a boy. The effort was paying off now, as she had promised, though at the time he had hated every minute. “I’ve always loved to dance.”

      “So have I.” Elizabeth followed him easily, making him look even better than he usually did. Her waist was trim, her body firm beneath his hands. He had always found her attractive. He was surprised he had not given her more consideration before.

      Then again, his political ambitions had loomed further in the future. Recently, that had begun to change.

      The song ended. Carson followed Elizabeth off the dance floor, then both of them came to a sudden halt as a dark-haired man stepped in their way.

      “Well, look who’s here,” Carson drawled, staring into his brother’s gold-flecked brown eyes. Times changed, but some things didn’t. His feelings for Zach—or lack thereof—were one of them.

      

      Elizabeth looked from Carson to the man standing toe-to-toe with him, dark-haired, dark-eyed. Unbelievably handsome. The realization hit her—she had seen this man at the barn. Though his face had been hidden behind a pair of wraparound sunglasses, it was the man she had seen working on the barn at Teen Vision. And now she knew why he had seemed so familiar.

      “I thought you weren’t coming,” Carson said to him, an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before. Elizabeth knew why. The man standing in front of her was Carson’s half brother.

      “I changed my mind.” Zachary Harcourt’s gaze moved to her and he flashed a smile that looked incredibly white against his dark skin. “Hello, Liz.”

      Her whole body stiffened. “Hello, Zach. It’s been a while.” But not long enough, she thought, remembering the last time she had seen him, remembering how drunk and insulting he had been, his eyes dilated from whatever drug he had been using at the time. She’d been a senior in high school, working part-time at Marge’s Café. “I didn’t know you were back in San Pico.”

      “I’m not. Not officially. Though I gather you’re living here now.”

      “I’ve been back for a couple of years.” She didn’t tell him she had seen him out at Teen Vision, but she silently questioned Carson’s judgment in allowing a man like his brother around a group of impressionable teenage boys.

      “Nice party,” Zach said, glancing around at the women in formal gowns, the men in tuxedos. “If you like rubber chicken and a band whose usual gig is the veteran’s hall.”

      “This is San Pico, not L.A.” Carson said stiffly, reaching up to adjust his black bow tie. “We’re here to raise money, in case you’ve forgotten.”

      “After that tear-jerking little speech you gave, how could I possibly forget? Nice job, by the way.” Zach’s tux looked expensive, Italian, judging from the fabric and cut, Armani or maybe Valentino, designers who specialized in clothes for men with the lean, hard build of a fashion model.

      She СКАЧАТЬ