The Reluctant Heir. HelenKay Dimon

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “Nope.” Jackson popped one of Carter’s chips in his mouth.

      “We’re lucky to have you.”

      Jackson stopped chewing long enough to smile. “That’s what I keep telling you all.”

      * * *

      She should run and keep running.

      That thought raced through Hanna’s mind as she stepped out of the cab she really couldn’t afford in front of a gate meant to keep her out. She stared up at the high wall that circled and protected the Jamesons’ expansive Virginia property. This was how rich people lived—cut off from others, safe from having to touch or talk with anyone but their own.

      For years, on and off, she’d lived behind that wall when she visited her father during those weekends, school holidays and a handful of weeks in the summer when he had visitation. During those times, she’d slip through the gate. Not this one, of course. The one around the side meant for staff. Never really welcome or accepted inside, her presence had been tolerated so long as she stayed quiet and knew her place.

      Despite all the rules, her father insisted he enjoyed working here because he was part of something. That living at the estate, having the responsibility of managing the grounds, gave him purpose. He’d felt at home there.

      He’d also died there.

      That’s why she’d taken Carter’s suggestion and showed up. Before they talked, she’d convinced herself she needed to move on and rebuild. Not look to the past. But now the need for answers gnawed at her. Real ones, not the ones passed through Eldrick’s fancy lawyers years ago. For the first time since she lost Gena, Hanna felt like she might be able to control some part of her life.

      Her mother had collected the death benefit check along with Eldrick’s short explanation. After years of fighting over custody schedules with her father, when it came to his death, her mother mourned. She also never believed the Jameson line about Dad falling off a ladder. Neither did Hanna.

      Standing there, lost in a haze of memories, she heard the rumble and crunch of tires. She watched a dark sedan slow down as it drove by. The driver stared at her, and at the scuffed duffel bag with the broken strap sitting at her feet. She stared right back, watching until the car turned a corner and headed for one of the other estates that dotted the hillside.

      “I hate being here.” She mumbled the truth to herself as she slipped her cell out of her front jeans pocket. Her finger hesitated over Carter’s number just as it had every time she started to call over the last few days.

      She’d shown up unannounced, but she first called the Jameson office in D.C. pretending to be a business contact looking for him. The person who answered said he wasn’t there, so she took a shot that he’d been telling the truth when he said he lived and worked at the estate now.

      It was just one of many chances she was taking. Carter didn’t refer to his dad in glowing terms. They seemed to share a distrust of the older man, but family was family and she still had a tangled past with Carter that made her wonder how far he’d come from the entitled boy who once caught her watching him work out in the gym at the estate and laughed at her interest.

      Being near him now was such a risk. She’d tried to move on, not think of herself as the second-best Wilde sister, but memories of Carter and the attraction that still seemed to beat inside her had the power to flip her back to that insecure mental place.

      She stared at the screen until the numbers blurred. Shifting and typing again, she started texting.

      I agree to the terms we discussed. I stay in the cottage and you leave me alone.

      She winced at the tense tone but hit Send anyway.

      Carter shot back a text response almost immediately.

      How could I say no to that charming agreement?

      “They were your terms, but fine,” she grumbled as she thought about what to write next. She couldn’t exactly admit she thought his family had something to do with her dad’s death. That would shut down all access, and this access onto the property only just opened for her thanks to Carter’s offhand suggestion.

      Before she could come up with the right response, another text popped up from Carter.

      When are you coming so I can be ready?

      She wished she could be ready.

      Why, are you going to change the sheets for me?

      She bit her lip as the Sent notification appeared on her screen. Then a wave of panic hit her. She didn’t mean to sound flirty or interested or even happy about any of this...even though she kind of was. The whole trip over she thought about Carter and that sexy smile when she should have been thinking about her dad and Gena and how good it would feel to finally beat the Jamesons at their own game.

      And bed? Why did she mention a bed?

      I thought we established that I know how to clean. I actually have many skills.

      She absolutely did not remember conceding that point. And the skills comment could not be flirting. If they started a game of mutual flirting her control would fizzle. But he had looked cute with that mop in his hands...

      You used a mop without hurting yourself.

      Congratulations.

      I’m sighing at you right now.

      She could almost hear him and the idea made her laugh. She smothered the sound as soon as it escaped her. But she didn’t type fast enough. Another text flashed across her screen.

      Trying again...when are you coming?

      This time she switched to calling because, really, she wanted to hear his voice for this one. The element of surprise was on her side. She intended to enjoy that.

      He picked up on the first ring. His deep, rich voice filled the line. “Hello, there.”

      The whole shivering in her stomach thing hit her again. It was unnecessary. She needed her reaction to Carter to stay...flat because she needed to keep her defenses strong against him and remember what happened to Gena when she didn’t. She struggled to find that tone when she responded.

      “I’m here now. Unlock the gate.” When he gasped, she hung up.

      This round to her.

       Four

      Carter refused to admit he jogged to the gate. It was a quick walk and he only picked up the speed to avoid being rude. He couldn’t just leave Hanna hanging out front. He wasn’t a complete jerk, after all.

      As he walked down the long drive, he spotted her peeking between the bars of the electric front gate. She wore jeans and a purple Henley, both formfitting to the point where his brain power kept blinking out.

      The temperature was cool but not cold like it had been at their last meeting in New York. A bag and what looked like a rolled-up jacket sat at her feet. That’s all she had. A few things in an oversize duffel. Carter СКАЧАТЬ