Trish Wylie - One Summer In New York

“Yes, Fernando Layne—meet my fiancée, Holly Motta.”

“Charmed,” Fernando replied, without extending his hand.

“Nice to meet you.” Holly rocked back on her heels, unsure how to move on if they weren’t going to shake hands.

“Are we having cocktails?” Fernando flung his coat to Ethan.

“Let me mix you something,” Ethan offered.

“I know where the drinks are.” Fernando rebuffed him and headed to the liquor cabinet.

Ethan had told Holly it was Fernando who had bought this apartment. On behalf of Benton Worldwide and with the company’s money, of course. And that he made frequent shopping trips to New York.

Forty-five years old trying to look twenty-five, judging from his slicked-back hair and skinny pants. No doubt Fernando preferred chic New York to less flashy Boston, although Holly couldn’t say for sure having never been there. But in an instant she knew that she wouldn’t trust Fernando if her life depended on it.

“Louise.” Fernando presented his wife with a glass of brown liquor.

She refused. “You know I’m not drinking with the new medications,” she said.

“A sparkling water, then.” He took the glass and drank it in one tip, then scurried back to the bar to pour Louise some water. Not asking if Holly and Ethan wanted anything.

Fernando’s eye caught the painting of Ethan, now on the wall where those impersonal black and white photos had been. “You two have certainly settled in.”

Holly bit her lip. If he only knew. About her barging in on Ethan just two days ago... That this apartment Fernando thought was his had become part of Ethan and Holly’s agreement... How no one in this room knew that her feelings for Ethan were becoming closer to real rather than the masquerade they were meant to be...

“Did you do this, my dear?” Louise moved toward the painting to take a closer look.

It had turned out well, especially for only an afternoon’s work. It was all done in blue—a tribute to the paint color she’d had on her face and hands when she had first rushed into this apartment, expecting it to be empty.

She’d probably had more fun than she should have painting Ethan. What an impressive subject he was. With his upright posture. Finely chiseled jaw. The deep, deep eyes with just a hint of crinkle at the outer corners. And his mouth! That mouth! No wonder it had taken her a few sketches until she got it right. Lips not so full as to be feminine. Lips she longed to explore with her own, not with her paintbrush...

“The first of many to come, I hope.” Holly slipped her arm through Ethan’s in a way she thought a fiancée in love might. His muscles jumped, but at least he didn’t bristle and pull away. “Ethan’s not keen on sitting for me.”

“He never was,” Louise agreed. “Didn’t we have to bribe you with sweets in order to get you to stay still for those Christmas portraits every year?”

“I told Holly about that crotchety old painter who smelled of pipe tobacco. She is lucky I was not scarred for life.”

Conversational banter. Check. This couldn’t be going better.

“I see you captured that distinctive curl of hair over Ethan’s forehead,” Louise noted.

That curl had captured Holly—not the other way around. The magnificent way his wavy hair spilled over in front. Just a little bit. Just enough...

It was the one thing that wasn’t completely tamed and restrained about Ethan. Somehow that curl hinted at the fiery, emotional man she knew lay beneath the custom-made suits and the multi-million-dollar deals.

“I certainly never learned how to paint or draw,” Ethan said, with a convincingly proud smile of approval at his fiancée’s handiwork.

While they chatted about the painting Fernando moseyed over to Ethan’s desk. Out of the corner of her eye, Holly saw him snooping at the papers on top of it.

Fernando was making himself a bit too much at home. Funny that Holly felt territorial after only two days. She knew that Fernando used this apartment frequently. But he didn’t keep any of his personal possessions here because other employees and associates of Benton Worldwide also used it when they were in New York.

Still, she didn’t think Fernando had the right to be looking at anything Ethan might have put down on the desk. But it wasn’t her place to say anything.

“Louise, would you like to sit down at the table?” Holly suggested.

She took Louise’s elbow and guided her toward the dining area. Ethan and Fernando followed suit behind them.

Holly overheard Fernando hiss to Ethan, “I know what you’re up to. You’ve found a wife so that Louise will retire and you can take over. If you think I’m going to spend the rest of her life getting sunburned on a boring island, you’ve got another think coming.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“SO FAR SO GOOD,” Holly said as she placed four plates on the kitchen counter so that she and Ethan could begin to serve dinner.

“Except that I had forgotten how much I detest that little Fernando,” he retorted.

Holly was only playing the role of soon-to-be member of this unusual family. She shouldn’t be privy to the disagreements and resentments that might lie beneath the surface. So it wouldn’t be proper for her to ask Ethan what Fernando had meant about not wanting to move to Barbados when Louise retired. Obviously the comment had made Ethan mad.

She removed the lid of the slow cooker. “Where did they meet?”

Speaking in a hushed voice, because Aunt Louise and her man-toy weren’t far away at the dining table, Ethan explained. “Our office manager at Headquarters hired him. His title is ‘Client Relations Coordinator,’ or some such nonsense. He does scarcely more than order fancy coffees for meetings and come here to New York or go to Europe to spend the company’s money. Of course I cannot fire him.” Ethan gritted his teeth. “As much as I would like to.”

With serving utensils, Holly lifted hearty chunks of the pot roast onto each plate. Ethan reached in with a fork to assist her. They worked seamlessly as a team, anticipating each other’s moves. Now pros at navigating the square footage of the small kitchen.

“What does she see in him?”

“Companionship. I suppose he makes her feel younger. She was devastated after Uncle Mel died.”

“She must miss Mel horribly.”

“They were a partnership in more ways than I can count. Not being able to have children brought them even closer. Taking me in was another thing they did together.”

With Ethan having witnessed such a solid marriage between his aunt and uncle, Holly wondered why he was so adamant that he himself would never marry for love. What had happened to close him off to the possibility?

Ethan ladled mashed potatoes while Holly spooned gravy on top. “So Fernando has been able to fill the hole left by your uncle’s death?”

“Hardly. He could never step into my uncle’s shoes. But I will grant that he provides a diversion. Within a year of Uncle Mel’s death Aunt Louise began having symptoms of this hereditary neuropathy that she remembers her mother suffering from.”

“Losing your husband and developing an illness, one after the other. That’s awful.”

“She could have sunk into a depression. Fernando at least gives her something to do. He keeps her busy with Boston society dinners and parties on Cape Cod. He will do the same in Barbados. I will remind him that I am the boss as often as I need to. We know a lot of people there. He can develop a social calendar for her.”

“Give her things to look forward to?”

“Yes. Without children, there are no grandchildren on the horizon. Although I suppose she assumes you and I will have...” He trailed off.

Children. With Ethan.