Maureen Child - The Highest Bidder

“If I don’t leave, he’ll start believing you are his father and then taking him away later will just hurt him that much more.”

“Why now?” Vance demanded, rubbing one hand against the ache that was dead center in his chest. “Why all of a sudden the talk of leaving?”

She pushed her hair back with one hand as the wind tossed it across her eyes. “It’s not all of a sudden. Ever since Henry … died, I’ve known I had to leave. You have, too, Vance. You just don’t want to admit it.”

“Ah,” he said tightly, “now you’re a mind reader.”

“Nothing so fabulous,” she countered. “But I recognize reality when it’s right in front of me.”

Vance’s brain was racing even as his heart seemed to be slowing down into a sluggish rhythm. She was wrong. He hadn’t even considered Charlie and Jake leaving. He’d gotten used to having them there. To tripping on the baby’s toys in the darkness. To the smell of oatmeal in the morning and, mostly, to the feel of Charlie, nestled in his arms every night.

He hadn’t been thinking beyond getting rid of the threat to her. Now he could see that freeing Charlie meant—freeing Charlie.

Without a reason to stay, of course she would want to take her son back to their apartment. So all of them could get back to their lives. No more watching baseball games with Jake on his lap. No more glasses of wine with Charlie before dinner. No more laughter. No more anything. He would have his privacy again. The quiet of an empty penthouse. He’d see Charlie at work and this—whatever it was—between them would eventually shrivel and die.

That was what should happen, wasn’t it? He’d never meant for any of this to last. He’d only begun this thing to save Waverly’s, right? He looked at her now and felt everything in him go cold and still. Life without her sounded bleak. How the hell was he supposed to give her up?

“Vance?”

Flowers scented the warm air. They were high enough above the city lights that the stars were clear in the black sky. And the moonlight—God, she was made for moonlight—poured down over her like magic.

He didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want to think. He wanted to feel what he only felt with Charlie. He wanted to lose himself in her. And wasn’t that a sort of answer to her question?

He crossed the terrace to her, grabbed her hard and pulled her tight against him.

“No more talking,” he muttered, “and no leaving. Not yet. Okay?”

Charlie looked up at him and nodded. “Not yet. Okay.”

A stay of execution was all he could think of before he claimed her mouth in a soul-searing kiss that left him staggered and hungry for all of her.

In seconds, he had the hem of her nightshirt lifted, scraping it up along her luscious body, and then off and over her head. Moonlight kissed her skin and then he was doing the same. Lavishing attention on every square inch of her body, he turned her, laid her down on the cushioned chaise nearby and in the darkness heard her gasp of pleasure. “Vance—”

As his mouth covered the very heart of her and he felt her tremble, he thought, This is what matters . Before shutting his mind down and reveling in the glory of Charlie, he told himself that what they shared together wasn’t just important. It was everything.

Ann Richardson presided over the board meeting at Waverly’s the following morning. Standing at the head of the conference table, she looked at each member of the board for a moment or two before finally settling her gaze on Vance.

“Thanks to Vance,” she said with a regal nod of her head, “we managed to stop at least one threat against Waverly’s.”

“Never could trust a Rothschild,” George muttered darkly and Veronica shushed him.

“Dalton’s issued a press release denying any knowledge of what Henry Boyle was up to,” Vance put in, giving George a quick look.

The old man snorted. “Dalton knows everything that goes on in his house. You can take that to the bank. Dalton’s got two assistants. Henry was one of ‘em. You really believe that fool came up with this plan on his own? I don’t think so.”

“Neither do I,” Vance agreed. Dalton was no doubt behind the attempt at gaining information. But they’d have a hell of a time trying to prove it. He looked over at Ann, who nodded again. “I think all of us are on the same page there, George. But the bottom line is that Dalton’s denied it and the police have found nothing tying him to Henry’s plan.”

“Your assistant doesn’t know anything more?” Edwina’s voice sounded soft, concerned.

“No, she doesn’t,” Vance said. “She’s simply relieved that the threat is over.”

“As are we all,” Simon piped up from his seat, slapping one arthritic hand against the table for emphasis.

“The problem,” Ann put in, silencing everyone with her cool voice, “is that we can’t be sure the threat is over.” She waved away George’s objections before he could start speaking again. “Yes, of course, this particular incident is over. But that doesn’t mean that Dalton Rothschild will quit trying to take us down. We all have to remain alert. Aware of what’s going on in the house.” She looked at each of them in turn again. “We can’t trust anyone,” she said softly.

Vance knew she was right, but he was glad he and Charlie had already passed through their test of fire. He knew he could trust her with his life. Now if he could just bring himself to trust her with his heart …

“We have to stay together on this,” Ann was saying. “A team. To protect Waverly’s.”

“Of course, dear,” Veronica said, softly applauding Ann’s words. “You know you have our full support. Isn’t that right, George?”

The older man nodded grudgingly. “Yes, yes. We’re all a team. Rah, rah. Can we stop talking about Dalton Rothschild now? You’re giving me indigestion.”

Vance smothered a laugh and Ann rolled her eyes. “Very well,” she said, “if we’ve finished with the Rothschild portion of the meeting, I have an announcement to make.”

“Better news I hope, dear,” Edwina said.

“Much better.” Ann gave them all a wide smile. “You all know Macy Tarlington?”

George harrumphed. “Knew her mother,” he said with a knowing wink. “Tina Tarlington. Now that was a woman. Hell of an actress, too.”

“Her daughter hasn’t done as well, has she?” Veronica asked no one in particular.

“Hell, no,” George said. “Not a shadow of Tina.”

Tina Tarlington had been a rare beauty who’d died recently at the relatively young age of sixty-two. Famous all over the world, Tina was as much known for her three marriages and her collection of diamonds as she was for her acting skills.

Vance gave Ann a shrewd look. “You got it?”

“I got it,” she said and practically crowed with delight. Then, to the rest of the board, she said, “I’ve convinced Macy Tarlington, after much wining and dining, to allow Waverly’s to conduct her late mother’s estate sale. Tina’s jewelry collection alone will make the sale a not-to-be-missed event.”

Vance only half listened to the congratulations and the rife speculation on what might be included in Tina’s collection of mementos. Smiling to himself, he took his first easy breath in a couple of weeks.

The threat to Charlie was gone. It looked like Waverly’s was going to be safe and retain its well-earned reputation. The only thing left to do, he thought, was decide what he wanted and then to go after it. Charlie’s face swam up into his mind and everything in him jolted with excitement. Just thinking about her had his pulse pounding and his body tightening. She was what he needed. What he had always needed.