Raye Morgan - A Proposal Worth Waiting For - The Heir's Proposal / A Pregnancy, a Party & a Proposal / His Proposal, Their Forever

He frowned. “What do you mean, despite everything?”

She blinked at him. Didn’t he remember how it was? His father had been the one who’d had hers arrested. There was certainly cause for her to resent the man. Her father had loved working for Hunt, as they called him, and had felt personally close to him. The way his old friend had turned on him had seemed a complete betrayal. It was a major factor in his taking his own life.

She frowned and turned away, fighting back emotion, but he didn’t seem to notice that she hadn’t answered.

“Wait. I’m trying to remember. Didn’t your father die shortly after you moved back down to Los Angeles that year?” he asked her. “I thought my father had told me that.”

She nodded, holding tears back with all the strength she had. There was no way she was going to cry in front of him.

“Yes,” she said gruffly. “My mother always says he died of a broken heart.” She coughed, covering up how her voice was shaking. “But actually...actually...” She turned and looked right into his face. “Actually, he shot himself.”

“Oh God.” His face registered pure compassion for a moment, and he reached out and touched her arm. “I’m sorry, Torie. I don’t think I knew that.”

She shrugged, forcing back the lump in her throat and pulling away from his hand.

“Funny,” he said softly. “So both our fathers committed suicide. How strange.”

“Oh!” She stared at him. His eyes looked troubled in the dark. “I didn’t know. The papers didn’t say... I thought...”

“It was an accidental drowning? Yeah, we got that announced and it stuck, luckily. But he left a note. We knew he died on purpose.”

She felt as though she’d been slugged in the stomach. She’d had no idea. She’d spent a lot of time resenting the man, but to hear he’d been tortured enough to want to end it all changed a lot in her heart.

Impulsively, she reached out and took his hand. “Oh Marc, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

He gazed down into her face. Tears still shimmered in her eyes. He looked at her pretty mouth and everything in him hungered to kiss her. Why? Just because she was pretty? Just because she was so close? No matter how much she appealed to him, she wasn’t available. She might not be married to Carl, but that didn’t mean she was free.

Deliberately, he pulled away from her touch.

“Carl,” he said, reminding himself as well as her. “What’s the deal with him? What’s he looking for?”

She shook her head. “I really don’t know. He hasn’t told me.” She hesitated, thinking fast. She needed to keep her cards close to her vest. She shouldn’t tell him too much. “I thought he was interested in buying the place and wanted to check out all the details. And that’s probably all it is.”

“But you don’t know.”

She bit her lip. What could she say? “When you come right down to it, I don’t really know him all that well,” she admitted. There was no use trying to maintain the fiction that they had ever been married. It was too late for that.

“I’ve worked for him a few times. He found out I grew up here, so when he decided to come check it out, he asked if I wanted to come and pretend to be his wife.”

She looked up into his eyes, hoping she was coming across as undeniably innocent—because that was what she was. Wasn’t she? Sure she was. She was using Carl, but he was using her. They both knew the score. It was basically an arrangement of convenience for both of them.

“I thought it would be fun, so I agreed to come with him.” She shrugged. “Other than that...”

A call came from the fire-pit area. It sounded as though the others were preparing to go to their rooms for the night. Torie’s heart fell. She wouldn’t have time to go to the old house and do the investigating she’d planned to do. Even if she could lose Marc, it was just too late. The others would be looking for her.

She gazed up at his face, surprised at how he seemed to get better-looking by the hour. Was it really him? Or was it her?

“I’d better get back,” she said.

He nodded, but as she began to turn away, he caught hold of her arm and pulled her around to face him.

“Promise me one thing,” he said huskily, his gaze hooded. “Keep your door locked tonight.”

Her eyes widened. “You mean...?”

His grip on her arm tightened. “I mean keep your door locked. I don’t trust Carl.”

“Oh no. He would never...”

Something flickered in his eyes. “He’s a man, isn’t he? And you’re a very attractive woman. I don’t trust him. Lock that door.”

She took a deep breath. For some reason, her heart was beating wildly. She didn’t think of herself that way, and she didn’t really believe he meant what he said about her. But still...

“Okay.”

“I’m going to check it. I’ll give you a knock like this...” He demonstrated against a handy tree trunk. “So you’ll know it’s me. Just checking.”

She searched his eyes and shook her head. “Why are you doing this?”

He thought for a minute, his brow furrowed, and then he shook his head too. “You got me,” he said. “I guess it’s for old time’s sake. After all, you’re sort of like a baby sister to me. Aren’t you?”

She laughed shortly. “No,” she said emphatically.

He shrugged and his hand loosened on her arm. “Okay. I guess I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

She nodded. “Fine. I can accept that.”

“Good.”

He looked down and for one, heart-stopping moment, she was sure he was about to kiss her. Marc Huntington was going to kiss her. How many times had she dreamed of this moment? She waited, ready, lips slightly parted, heart beating like a jungle drum. He stared down at her for a long moment, and then something changed in his eyes and he turned away.

“Good night, Victoria Sands,” he said gruffly. “Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”

And he melted into the shadows of the trees.

Her breath was coming fast, as though she’d just been running hard, and her face was burning. She felt like a fool. When would she ever learn? Marc Huntington was not for her. Never would be.

* * *

Back at the house, she managed to evade Carl as she passed the fire pit and made it all the way to her bedroom before he caught up with her.

“Hold it,” he said, thrusting his shoulder in the way of her closing the door. “We’ve gotta talk.”

“Carl, it’s been a long day. I need to get some sleep.”

“You can sleep all you want, but I need some help first. I need you to update the map.”

She sighed. The map she’d drawn of the Shangri-La estate was rough at best. She’d done it from memory and given it to him back when they were first planning this little adventure. In some ways it had been a labor of love and she’d enjoyed dredging up all her old stories as she worked on it.

“What’s missing?” she asked.

“The caves.” He pulled a folded paper out of his jacket and looked at her quizzically, his gaze cold. “I’m just wondering. Why did you leave out the caves?”

That was a good question and she wasn’t really sure what the answer was.

“Listen Carl, just leave the map with me and I’ll get them sketched in by lunch tomorrow.”

“No,” he said, a hint of anger beginning to surface in his voice. “I need it tonight. I need...”

“Is there a problem?”

They both jumped and turned to find Marc coming down the hall toward them.

“Something I can do to help?” he asked silkily, staring at Carl.

Carl grabbed his map back and shoved it into his jacket, shaking his head and looking resentful. “No. It’s nothing.” He began to retreat toward his own room. “Okay, Torie. We’ll deal with it in the morning. See you then.”