Reunited in Love Read online

  And how about her sad eyes? They have nothing to do with your interest?

  Ethan quashed the thought. Kerri had looked a bit blue at the christening party all those years back, but maybe she’d been having a bad day or something. She no longer looked sad—nope, not at all—and Lisa was an old story. He wasn’t into Kerri because of some messed up need for redemption after what had happened with Lisa. It had torn him up and hurt his family greatly. He wasn’t crazy enough to go for a Lisa Number Two, no matter how hot she was.

  He wrote a quick email for his administrative assistant. The second he hit “send,” his cell phone buzzed. With a frown, he picked it up. “Alex, what’s up?”

  “Hey,” his best friend said, sounding tired. “I don’t think we’ll be back in town today.”

  Ethan swung his feet off the desk. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing too bad, but Natalie got food poisoning.”

  “Ah, that sucks. Is she okay?”

  “Yeah, she’s fine. Just in no condition to travel right now.”

  “I can imagine.” With her stomach roiling, the last thing she’d want was a trans-Atlantic flight. “Well, no worries. I can man the fort a little longer.”

  “Sorry. Oh, and we may get delayed a little bit beyond that. I just got off the phone with Rossi, and it looks like I need to take a look at operations in Rome and Paris before heading back.”

  “Okay.” Rossi had sent an email to everyone in upper management, impeccable and professional underneath the dramatic Italian flair, and Ethan had seen it already. “Natalie doesn’t mind the working honeymoon?”

  “It’s just for a little bit. I could deal with the matter from the States, but we’re already here.”

  Nothing beat being someplace in person to close things ASAP. “You’re lucky. Most wives would’ve been pissed.”

  Alex chuckled. “I always get the best. Anyway, let Kerri know that we’ll be delayed, but even with the work issues, we should be back in Virginia in the next two, three weeks. I’ll get my secretary to arrange for something better than a hotel suite. Natalie’s worried because she thinks Kerri might be returning to Hong Kong before we get back. Of course, I guess we could just fly out to Hong Kong to see her if we have to.”

  “Ah, about that.” Ethan cleared his throat. “Tell Natalie to rest easy. Kerri isn’t leaving anytime soon.”

  There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Is that so?”

  “For a couple of months at least.”

  “Indeed,” Alex said in that “What have you done, my friend?” tone.

  “Kerri’s working for TLD.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “This morning.”

  A moment of silence. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “Don’t worry.”

  “You know she’s Natalie’s ‘bestest’ best friend, right? And Natalie can be a bit overprotective.”

  “Yup.”

  “Well, then. Good luck.”

  Alex hung up, and Ethan leaned back in his seat. He felt bad for Natalie, but at the same time, he was sort of glad that she wasn’t coming home as scheduled. Otherwise Kerri would’ve used her friend as a shield against him when things got too intense for her own comfort. For the sake of his friendship with Alex, he didn’t want to fight Natalie.

  Ethan tossed his laptop into his bag and left for the weekend. He had a woman waiting.

  *

  Alex looked at his wife. “That was a terrible lie.”

  Natalie shrugged with a smile, her face glowing. “Oh, who cares, so long as they bought it.” She tossed herself on the gigantic bed, the silk robe he’d bought for her loose around her legs. “Besides, Rossi does need you.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because I think Ethan will be good for Kerri.”

  “Matchmaking?”

  She pressed her lips together. “No…nothing so drastic. Kerri’s not the marrying type. And I don’t think Ethan is either.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Alex said. “He just never met the right woman.”

  She grinned. “Whatever, let’s just enjoy a few more weeks of newly-wedded bliss and this fabulous Italian food before we have to go back. It won’t kill Ethan to be in charge of Global Strategies for a little longer. Besides, he owes me.” She made a kissing motion in Alex’s direction. “And you do too.”

  “Oh? What exactly is this debt you speak of?” he said, his eyes already darkening with arousal.

  “Come here” —the robe slid from a pale golden shoulder— “and I’ll whisper it in your ear.”

  *

  Ethan found Kerri hunched over her laptop in the study, manila folder open and papers spread around her. She sat on the floor, crossed legs forming a cradle for the computer. A pair of black glasses were perched on her nose, giving her a sort of sexy librarian look. A simple white cotton long-sleeve shirt molded to her torso, accentuating the lines of her body.

  He’d checked the spare bedroom suite on his way in; she hadn’t unpacked, except for a small bottle of lotion in the bathroom.

  He stared at her, hands on his hips. She was supposed to unpack and relax. Grab a glass of wine and soak in the Jacuzzi with her favorite movie on or her favorite music playing. It was a Saturday, for god’s sake.

  “Turn that off,” he said.

  “Hold on,” she said, not looking up from her computer. “I’m almost done with this.”

  He mentally counted to ten.

  “That can’t be right,” she muttered and picked up a print-out.

  He reached down and closed her laptop with a finger.

  “Hey!”

  “You do not work weekends. Got it?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re one to talk. How was your business meeting?”

  “That’s different. I’m doing extra because Alex is on his honeymoon.”

  “So you never work on weekends?”

  He glared at her. He wasn’t going to lie, but he wasn’t giving her the satisfaction of an honest answer either.

  “Uh-huh.” With a small smirk, Kerri turned to open her laptop.

  He kept his finger on the device, holding it closed. There was no point in her working so hard on The Lloyds Development. The company was doing fine, and he needed to be brought up to speed on it, nothing more. Once she was finished with the job, she might decide she needed to vanish again, especially if she thought that the situation was getting even slightly out of her control. He could come up with another job for her, but it wouldn’t be long before he tipped his hand that he was keeping her busy with meaningless work.

  “I’m only working a lot because Alex and Natalie are out of the country,” Ethan repeated.

  She crossed her arms in front of her. “When are they coming back? You know, so I can watch you not work on weekends.”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “How can you not be sure? Aren’t you going to pick them up, too?”

  “They have a driver. But they aren’t coming any time soon. Natalie has food poisoning and is in no condition to fly.”

  “What? Is she all right?”

  “Don’t worry. A few days of rest is all the doctor ordered.”

  Kerri nodded, a couple lines marring her forehead. “I see,” she said vaguely.

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “It’s not that. It’s just…Natalie has the constitution of a team of Clydesdales. I’m wondering what could’ve possibly brought her down.”

  “Is that a fact?” He sat next to her. “Anyway, seriously. Stop working. We should go out and have fun.”

  “I am already having fun. I’m working.”

  “I know a way to have more fun, but you have to be not working.”

  Her gaze flicked a couple of times from his eyes to his mouth and back. “Is that a fact?”

  Chapter Seven

  KERRI OPENED HER EYES. The unfamiliar bedroom was pitch-dark, but there was a delicious smell of eggs, bacon and sausag
es drifting in from the kitchen. The clock on the bedside table read 9:35. Her gaze traveled to the windows, and she groaned. Black-out curtains. No wonder she hadn’t woken up earlier.

  Good lord. She never slept this late. On the other hand, she never slept with a man as physical as Ethan. She knew the previous late-night lovemaking hadn’t been a dream. How could he have wanted her so often? He seemed insatiable, and his desire affected her as well. She found herself craving his body nearly all the time.

  It had to be the incredible way he could bring her to an orgasm or two or three or four. What woman wouldn’t like that?

  She turned. The pillow next to hers was rumpled, which meant Ethan had spent the night in her bedroom. That wouldn’t do. Next time she should make sure to have sex in his room, so she could go back to hers afterward.

  Assuming she could stay awake long enough.

  The rich aroma of coffee gradually insinuated itself into the olfactory mix, and she rose to her feet. Definitely time to get up.

  Despite the minor hiccup, maybe sharing the penthouse wasn’t such a bad idea, especially if she got treated to gourmet coffee every morning. There’d been a toady analyst in Hong Kong who’d brought her a venti frappuccino with caramel and whipped cream at seven-thirty sharp every day in a sad attempt to suck up. She didn’t miss him—he wasn’t the brightest—but she missed the Starbucks service.

  She stretched, put on a robe and padded outside. Ethan was pouring a cup of coffee. “Morning. Want some?”

  “Definitely.”

  He slid the steaming mug across and got himself another. “How did you sleep?”

  She smiled. “Very well, thank you.” Almost too well.

  She eyed the pile of food on the table. He seemed so energized and light-hearted. She took a sip of the coffee. Not as rich as a frappuccino, but definitely gourmet. Needed a little sugar, but… She sighed. No point in dwelling on what she couldn’t have.

  “Good?” Ethan asked.

  “Mm.” She pulled her tablet from the purse she’d left on one of the stools by the counter. This was a familiar routine—checking the market while enjoying her coffee and what other minor morning vices she could come up with.

  He gently took the gadget from her hand. “No work before brekky, as they say in the UK.”

  She looked at him sourly. “I wasn’t working.”

  He glanced at the screen. “Hmm. Market data. Market analysis. Market news. Looks like work to me.”

  “It’s not.”

  “Kerri. When a woman who screamed my name five times the night before ignores me at breakfast and hides behind a gadget, it’s kind of irritating.”

  She opened her mouth and then shut it again. There was no arguing with that, and most likely his family didn’t allow anybody to stare at mobile devices at the table either. Hers hadn’t cared what she did as long as she made herself invisible.

  He placed a full plate in front of her. “Thank you. So. You seem to be adjusting well to the time difference.”

  “It’s not that bad. I don’t really have a consistent sleeping pattern.” She eyed the eggs. “Are these real?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t eat fake eggs.”

  “I mean…are they low-calorie, low-fat substitute?”

  “Absolutely not. Why?”

  “Oh, nothing,” she said automatically.

  “You don’t like eggs?”

  “I prefer low-fat yogurt for breakfast.” If she said that about a hundred times, it might actually become true. Then she added, “And fresh fruit.”

  “You don’t have to pretend you’re one of those ‘salad and water’ types.”

  “Beg pardon?”

  “I have it on good authority that you, in fact, love bacon and eggs. And sausage. Not to mention bagels laden with full-fat cream cheese.”

  Damn it. Natalie had obviously ratted her out. “Well, yeah, okay…but I’m watching my cholesterol,” she said finally. Her chest felt tight, like she was speaking of something that ought to be kept secret.

  “I don’t have any yogurt at the moment, but I can pick some up. In the meantime, a couple of eggs won’t kill you. As for the bacon and sausages, don’t worry. I’ll be happy to eat them for you.”

  “Okay.” She sat at the table. It was nothing compared to the kind of heart-killing stuff she used to shovel into her mouth in Hong Kong.

  Totally unfair. If she had to have a crappy liver, she should at least have titanium arteries that never got clogged.

  He sat next to her rather than across the table as she expected. His big body made her feel a little crowded despite the spacious kitchen and dining area. Or maybe it was just his presence that loomed, filling every empty space with that inviting heat that was uniquely his. It promised, “Lean on me, depend on me, and know I’ll keep you safe.” She knew it was just an illusion that she wanted to believe. No matter how independent she strived to be, there were times when she wanted to close her eyes and rest her head against a broad, strong shoulder, attached to an even broader and stronger man who would fight the world for her.

  “So since it’s Sunday, what are your plans?” she asked, tasting the eggs. “Another business meeting while you order me not to work?”

  “Nope. I’m going to see my mom.”

  “Do you see her often?”

  “As much as work allows, which isn’t that much. But I need to talk to her face-to-face this time.”

  “Because of the company.”

  “A bit, but mainly because of the CEO.”

  She searched for any signs of worry, but he seemed utterly relaxed, his shoulders and arms loose. “Have fun.”

  “I will. Don’t work, even though I know you’re going to ignore that the second I walk out the door.”

  “Then why say it?”

  “Hope springs eternal.”

  After breakfast, she loaded everything in the dishwasher and watched him go out in a casual shirt and jeans. Whatever problem The Lloyds Development had couldn’t be something as simple as the CEO disappearing. If it were, he wouldn’t have felt the need to inform his mother.

  She tossed herself on the couch, her tablet clutched in her hand. Google yielded very little. She should’ve known better. There were layers of truths when it came to wealthy families.

  There was the public layer, the one that petty gossipmongers, magazines and blogs reported on. What little truth remained was usually buried under a heaping pile of crap, and sorting truth and crap could be difficult if you didn’t know the players involved.

  Then there was the acquaintance layer. A few more truths, seen through a strong lens of personal taste. If the person retelling the story liked the people involved, the tale would be warm, gentle, almost Disney fairytale-like. If not, all bets were off and the gossip would resemble the nastiest of Grimm’s fairytales.

  The friends and family layer had the most truths, but truths that had marinated for decades in strong bias. Years and years of being so close together tended to create unshakable impressions, loves and resentments.

  Kerri shied away from the final layer whenever possible. The acquaintance layer was close enough and provided plenty of information. She considered some options as her tablet’s screen shut off. Natalie might know more, but she was on her honeymoon. And sick too—though Kerri had her doubts.

  But Justin… He was plugged in. There was no rumor that he didn’t hear about first. And she’d promised to call.

  They exchanged a few pleasantries. Justin was alone at home, working on some documents that apparently could wait. “What’s up?” he asked. “Another eventful day yesterday?”

  “You could say that. I got a job.”

  “Really? Doing what?”

  “Working for the enemy.”

  “Kerri, no! The IRS?”

  She chuckled. “I said the enemy, not the devil.”

  “Well then. It can’t be that bad.”

  He had no idea she was with TLD. What would he say if she told him?


  Without pressing for details—he knew better—he brought her up to speed on the family and what everyone had been up to, starting with siblings and cousins. She listened patiently. He’d only get around to talking about people he knew once he was done with the obligatory Sterling news first.

  Finally, he nudged her about seeing Barron. “There’s gotta be a reason why he wants to see you. Who knows? Maybe he’s about to leave you everything.”

  Yeah, right. “And get back under the thumb of le roi soleil?” She used their secret codename for Barron. It fit well. Barron was easily as autocratic and almost as powerful as Louis XIV, and just as long-lived too. The joke in the family was that he would outlive all his great nephews. “The last time he wanted somebody this bad, the guy ended up ruined. Ruined, with a capital R.”

  “Come on. You don’t really think he’s out to get you, right?” Justin said.

  “Hey, just because you’re the Heir Apparent—”

  “Holy shit, Kerri. That’s low,” he muttered. He hated the nickname.

  “Sorry,” she said, slightly contrite. “But look, if you keep talking about Barron I’m going to change my number and lose yours.”

  “Fine. I won’t mention him. But you’re being too harsh.”

  “No, I’m not. He does not want to see me, trust me on this.” Every summer she’d come home, Barron had made sure she spent at least two months with Justin’s parents. “And I sure don’t want to see him. We have nothing to talk about.”

  Justin sighed and dropped the topic. Instead, they gossiped for a bit about the people in the Sterlings’ social circle.

  Her patience paid off when he finally said, “You remember the Lloyds, the family who used to be in Houston?”

  “Vaguely. I wasn’t there much, remember?”

  “True. You were boarding in Europe most of the time.”

  “I know of them,” she said. “They own The Lloyds Development. They do real estate in competition with Sterling & Wilson—pretty successfully, if I recall.” Her father had led the real estate division before his untimely death, and during her business career, articles about it had always caught her eye.

  “Yup. But I’m hearing some rumors that Jacob—the CEO—is in trouble.”