Invincible. Joan Johnston

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ concentrate on this woman when he was thinking about another.

      Veronica smiled and he watched her shoulders relax.

      “Excuse me while I visit the powder room,” she said. She turned and he realized she had no idea where it was.

      He pointed her in the right direction. “In there.”

      He almost groaned with regret as he watched the sexy sway of her hips as she walked away. He was sure she had the sexual sophistication to please him a great deal in bed. Veronica turned to glance at him over her shoulder, her long blond hair swinging free, and smiled. The invitation remained.

      He should take advantage of it. He should cross the room and take her in his arms and finish what he had, by God, started.

      But there was no way he could enjoy partaking of such delicious fruit until he’d settled things one way or the other with K. He was going to have to talk with her again. He was going to have to convince her to work with him. If for no other reason than to prove to himself that the woman wouldn’t—simply couldn’t—live up to his memories of her.

      Maybe he ought to go to America for Mother’s Day. He could stop by The Seasons and find out what the hell his mother wanted.

      More importantly, he’d be on the same continent as K. He could take a flight down to Miami and talk some sense into her. Because he wasn’t going to have any peace until he did.

      5

      “Another gift has arrived, Your Grace, along with a note declining your invitation.”

      Bella growled with frustration, then put a hand to her heart, which was beating hard enough from anxiety to hurt. What if none of her children showed up? She couldn’t bear the thought. Did they despise her so much? Or were they truly as busy as they claimed to be?

      Bella forced herself to take a deep, calming breath as she settled onto a rock-hard horsehair Victorian sofa. The sofa had survived fire and plague and pestilence over the centuries, which was why the uncomfortable thing still stood in the parlor at The Seasons.

      She took several more deep breaths but didn’t feel the least bit calmed. Oliver, Riley and Payne had already rejected her invitation, citing business commitments. “Who sent the latest gift?” she asked her assistant. “Lydia or Max?”

      “It’s from Lady Lydia,” Emily said.

      “So Max might still come.”

      “We can always hope, Your Grace.”

      Bella eyed the young woman. “But you don’t believe he’ll show.”

      “We can always hope,” Emily repeated. “You know how busy everyone is. According to the report from Warren & Warren Investigations, Courtland—I mean, the earl—Oliver—is purchasing ranch land in Argentina. Lord Riley is negotiating for oil tankers in Hong Kong. And Lord Payne…” A thoughtful frown wrinkled her forehead before she said, “Oh, yes. Mr. Warren reported that Lord Riley is on a ship somewhere in the Aegean, researching an underwater archeological find.”

      “And Lydia’s excuse?” Bella asked.

      “According to the note that came with your gift, she’s in Venice. She mentioned something about hunting down a stolen painting.”

      Bella picked up a needlepointed pillow from the sofa and threw it across the room toward the elaborately carved white marble fireplace. It fell short. She hissed with fury.

      “Are you all right, Your Grace?” Emily asked, rushing to her side.

      “I’m fine, Emily,” Bella said with irritation. “There’s nothing wrong with my heart. Go back to your knitting.”

      Emily reluctantly crossed the room, picked up a pair of knitting needles and a partially completed blue wool sweater from a silk-brocade-covered wing chair, and sat down.

      “You know what I hate most about what’s happening here?” Bella said.

      Over the clack of her knitting needles Emily asked, “What’s that, Your Grace?”

      “The smug look I’m going to see on my brother-in-law’s face when only one of my children shows up here today.” Bella heard footsteps on the creaky, carpeted wooden Gone-With-the-Wind staircase in the central hallway of the nearly four-century-old home. She glanced over her shoulder and found Foster Benedict, Bull’s younger brother—and her nemesis—standing in the doorway to the parlor. “Speak of the devil,” she muttered.

      “Good morning, Bella,” he said with surprising cordiality.

      Bella watched as Foster crossed to a breakfront where a silver coffee service and a selection of pastries had been set out by the butler. Foster had been incensed when she’d told him she intended to have her children visit her for Mother’s Day at The Seasons. He’d already made plans to have his children meet their mother there. He’d ordered her to go somewhere else.

      Bella had refused. Since she was still Bull’s wife, she was entitled to use of The Seasons. Instead, she’d suggested Foster have his family join hers, as they had during holidays in years gone by. Given no other choice, he’d agreed.

      “It seems it won’t be as crowded here this weekend as I feared,” Foster said.

      Bella saw the superior look on his face in the gilded mirror behind the breakfront. And heard the satisfaction in his voice. Foster expected five of his seven children—two of his four sons and his three teenage daughters—to be on hand today. He must be aware that at least four of her five children would not.

      “I wouldn’t look so smug if I were you,” Bella said.

      “Why not?” Foster said.

      “Your children are making their way here from a few miles up the road. It’s understandable if mine aren’t able to come from halfway around the world. And I’m expecting Max to turn up at any moment.”

      “One out of five,” Foster mused. “Frankly, one more than I expected.”

      “You’ve always been a son of a bitch, Foster.”

      “You’re the bitch incarnate,” Foster shot back.

      “How dare you!” Emily said, rising from her chair to confront Foster. “Take that back.”

      Foster laughed viciously. “Take it back?” He turned to Bella and said, “Tell your minion to back off, Bella. Or I’ll have her for breakfast.”

      Emily looked flustered, but she stood her ground.

      “Sit down, Emily,” Bella said in an even voice. Then she focused her narrowed eyes on Foster and said, “Don’t threaten Emily again, or I’ll have to retaliate in a way you won’t like.”

      “What would that be?”

      “Use your imagination,” Bella said. “You know I make good on my promises.”

      The last time they’d locked horns Bella had arranged for Foster to lose an extraordinary amount of money on one of his СКАЧАТЬ