Married to His Business / Six-Month Mistress: Married to His Business. Elizabeth Bevarly

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СКАЧАТЬ the caretaker was waiting for him.

      The woman was dressed in a pale yellow straight skirt and a white sleeveless top, a canvas gimme cap decorated with a logo he didn’t recognize pulled low on her forehead. Coupled with her sunglasses, it was hard to tell what she looked like, but what he could see was pretty, in a wholesome kind of way. The ponytail hanging out of the cap’s opening was streaked dark blond, and she had some decent curves, so it wasn’t surprising that Matthias found himself comparing her to Kendall…and thinking how nice it would be if it was Kendall who was here to greet him instead. Not because he wanted to spend a month here with Kendall, of course, but because if Kendall was here, he could get a lot more work done, that was all.

      “I assume you’re Mary?” he asked the woman by way of a greeting. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

      She seemed to deflate a little when she got a good look at him, and only then did he realize she had seemed kind of expectant as he strode up the walk. Maybe she’d thought he was someone else, since his own appearance probably wasn’t easy to discern, either, thanks to his own sunglasses.

      She nodded. “I’m the caretaker.” Without further ado, she extended a key that dangled from a rather elaborate key chain and added, “Here’s the key. Just leave it on the kitchen table at the end of the month. I’ve stocked the refrigerator and cabinets, and there’s some carryout from a local takeaway gourmet. But if it’s not to your taste or you’d like something specific, there are menus for some restaurants in Hunter’s Landing on top of the fridge. I can recommend Clearwater’s and the Lakeside Diner for sure. Or if you do the cooking thing, there’s a market just east of where you turned off to find the lodge.”

      Her voice was soft but dispassionate, and she spoke as if she were reading from a script. And not very dramatically, at that. “Tahoe City is about a half hour north, the Nevada state line about twenty minutes east. If you want to gamble,” she added, as if wanting to clarify.

      “Not like that,” Matthias told her. When he gambled, he liked for the stakes to be much higher than mere cash.

      Mary nodded. “Would you like for me to show you around the place? Explain how everything works?”

      “I assume it’s all pretty standard,” he replied. Not to mention he had no intention of seeing how anything worked. That way lay madness.

      “Standard, yes,” Mary told him. “But there are quite a few amenities. Hot tub, Jacuzzi, gourmet kitchen, plasma TV…”

      He held up a hand to stop her. He wasn’t the type to indulge in any of those things. He had too much work to do. “It won’t be necessary,” he told her. “Thanks, anyway.”

      “Then, if you won’t be needing anything else?” she asked.

      Well, there was nothing he needed that she could provide, anyway, he thought. So he told her, “Nothing, thanks.”

      “Emergency numbers are on the fridge, too,” she said. “Including mine. Hopefully you won’t need them, either.”

      She hesitated before leaving, studying Matthias’s face for a moment as if she were looking for something. Then, suddenly, she said, “Goodbye,” and turned to walk down the front steps. For the merest, most nebulous second, she seemed a little familiar somehow. He didn’t know if it was her walk, her voice, the way she carried herself or what, but there was…something about her that reminded him so much of someone else. He just couldn’t quite put his finger on who.

      And then the impression was gone, as quickly as it had materialized. Mary was gone, too, having climbed back into her car and backed it out of the driveway. Matthias jingled the key in his hand absently, shrugged off his odd ruminations and turned to unlock the front door, closing it behind himself once he was inside. Out of habit, he tossed his battered leather weekender—the one he’d traveled with since college—onto the nearest piece of furniture. No small feat, that, since the place was huge, with a foyer the size of a Giants dugout, and the nearest piece of furniture was half a stadium away. He didn’t care if he knocked something over in the process. He was still pissed off at Hunter for making all of them rearrange their lives for a month to come here and do whatever the hell it was they were supposed to do.

      But then, he was still pissed off at Hunter for dying, too.

      Of course, if he were honest with himself, Matthias would have to admit that he was more pissed off at himself than anyone else. He hadn’t meant to lose touch with the Seven Samurai over the years. It had just…happened. Time happened. Distance happened. Work happened. Life happened. People grew up. They grew apart. They went their separate ways. Happened all the time. He and Hunter and the rest of them had all been kids when they’d made pacts and promises to stay friends forever. Hell, Matthias hadn’t even kept in touch with his own brother. Then again, when your brother did things like accusing you of cheating him in business and stealing your fiancée, it was understandable why you’d allow for some distance.

      As soon as the thought formed in his head, Matthias pushed it away. He was being unfair to Luke. Really unfair this time, and not the phony-baloney unfairness of which his brother had always accused him. Their father hadn’t exactly been a proponent of fairness, anyway. He had pitted the two of them against each other from the day the twins were old enough to compete. Which, to the old man’s way of thinking, had been within seconds of their emerging from the womb. If there had been some way to make the boys vie for something against each other, Samuel Sullivan Barton found a way to do it. Who could win the most merit badges in Cub Scouts. Who could sell the most wrapping paper for the school fund-raiser. Who could score the most baskets, make the most touchdowns, pitch the best game. As children, they’d been more like rivals than brothers.

      It had only gotten worse after their father’s death and the terms of his will had been made public. Samuel had decreed that whichever of the boys made a million dollars first, the estate would go to him in its entirety. Matthias had won. Though winning had been relative. Luke had accused him, unjustly, of cheating and hadn’t spoken to him for years. It hadn’t been until recently that the two men had shared anything. And then what they’d shared was Lauren Conover, the woman who’d agreed to be Matthias’s wife. It had been the ultimate competition for Luke…until he’d fallen in love with the prize. And although Matthias had come to terms with what had happened, things between him and his brother still weren’t exactly smooth. Or simple. Or settled.

      Man, what was it about peoples’ last wills and testaments that they always sent Matthias’s life in a new direction?

      He sighed as he leaned against the front door and drove his gaze around the lodge. In college, they’d said they wanted to build a cabin. But “cabin” evoked an image of a rustic, no-frills, crowded little shack in the woods with few amenities and even fewer comforts. This place was like something from Citizen Kane, had the movie been filmed in Technicolor. The great room ceiling soared up two stories, with expansive windows running the entire length of one wall, offering an incredible view of the lake. The pine paneling was polished to a honeyed sheen, the wide planked floors buffed to a satin finish. At one end of the room was a fireplace big enough to host the United Arab Emirates, a sofa and chairs clustered before it that, ironically, invited an intimate gathering of friends.

      The place was exactly the sort of retreat Matthias would have expected Hunter to have. Handsomely furnished. Blissfully quiet. Generously outfitted. And yet there was something missing that prevented it from being completely comfortable. Something that Hunter had obviously forgotten to include, but Matthias couldn’t quite put his finger on what.

      He pushed himself away from the door and made his way to where his weekender had landed—just shy of actually hitting the nearest СКАЧАТЬ