Once Upon A Kiss...

Four

Sinclair stayed in his room as long as possible, reading research one of his staff had compiled on a gold-mining company in Uruguay. He’d much rather be at work than “relaxing” here with his mom organizing things for him to do every minute of the day. Today’s festivities included a croquet party she’d arranged, and he was expected to put in an appearance and actually wield a mallet. If she hadn’t come so close to death … He let out a long breath, then closed his laptop and swung his feet off the bed.

“Sinclair, is that you?” His mom’s voice came from the corridor. Had she been listening outside, waiting for him to betray signs of life? He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. She’d probably arranged for eight to ten attractive single women, dressed in designer croquet attire, to battle each other to win his heart.

Couldn’t any of them tell he didn’t have a heart to win?

“I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Good, dear, because everyone’s here.”

A glance out the window confirmed that “everyone” was at least fifteen of Dog Harbor’s most well-heeled citizens. They milled about clutching drinks, stiletto heels sinking into the smooth lawn. He yawned. His mother’s social occasions made even the most brutal business negotiations seem like a cakewalk.

And Annie would be there. Not playing croquet, or batting her eyelashes, but serving the iced tea and salmon squares. He searched for her among the small crowd but didn’t see her. The resulting wave of disappointment shocked him away from the window and toward the door, tucking in his shirt and smoothing his hair on the way. Maybe all these people would at least take his mind off Annie for a while.

Either that or he was losing it for good. Lust. That’s what it was. The curse of mankind, or at least the male half of the species. Abstinence didn’t really work for men, they just ended up doing something crazier and more stupid than if they’d been in a normal relationship.

Shame he wasn’t capable of a normal relationship. Two failed marriages didn’t leave too much doubt about that.

He descended the stairs and went out to the garden. Voices called out, “Sinclair, how lovely to see you! It’s been such a long time.” Scented kisses covered his cheeks and he was forced to make fluff conversation about how his business was doing. Happily, neither of his ex-wives was there, but several of their close friends were. No doubt his mother considered them potential future wives. She was nothing if not determined.

“Would you like a glass of white wine?” Annie’s soft voice made him whip around.

“Iced tea would be fine, thanks.” The words sounded so inadequate, so laughable, after what had happened between them. A pang of regret stabbed him as she moved silently away to get his drink. He’d made things so awkward with a lovely woman who deserved to be treated with respect, not stripped naked by a man who couldn’t control his basest urges.

“You’re up first, Sinclair.” His mother, beaming and looking happier and healthier than he’d seen her in ages, thrust a mallet into his hand. She loved parties and was never happier than when entertaining. Of course she wasn’t a true Drummond. She’d married into the family, or she might have shared the taste for solitude that so annoyed her in his father and himself. None of the other Drummonds she’d tried to contact about the cup had bothered to respond. He wouldn’t have either if she wasn’t his own mother.

Annie returned with his drink. “Oh, you’re playing now. Maybe I’d better hold on to it for you.” Her lashes were a dark gold color that turned darker at the root near her pale blue eyes. Her hand hovered, waiting to see if he’d take the drink. His groin tightened and heated as a memory flashed over him—of the lush, curvy body hidden beneath her loose-fitting clothes.

“I’ll take it now.” He grabbed the glass rather roughly, afraid he’d somehow betray the fever of arousal that suddenly gripped him. All he needed was her lingering somewhere nearby, drink in hand, while he attempted to tap a wooden ball around the lawn.

“We haven’t seen you out here in ages, Sinclair. If your family hadn’t owned the place since biblical times I’d worry you were going to sell.” A sleek brunette he recognized from the yacht club held her drink up near her ear as a smile hovered around her glossy lips.

“Couldn’t do that. The ancestors would rise up and haunt me.”

“We’re doing teams.” His mother rushed over. “Sinclair, why don’t you team up with Lally.” She gestured toward the brunette, who murmured that she’d love to.

Sinclair’s heart sank. Why couldn’t people leave him alone? Now Lally would be offended if he didn’t flirt with her vigorously enough, and again when he failed to ask her out. Or, if he did ask her out from a sense of duty, she’d be upset when he didn’t want to sleep with her. Maybe he should sleep with her right here and get it over with.

His flesh recoiled from the possibility. “Sure. Why don’t you start?” He handed his partner the mallet, and she handed him her drink to hold. It looked like Annie’s famous Long Island iced tea, a shot of every white liquor plus a splash of Coke for color. It tasted deceptively sweet and was utterly lethal. He contemplated downing it in one gulp.

“Oh, no, we’re short a hand.” His mom rushed around, stabbing in the air with her finger as she counted the assembled guests. “Philip canceled at the last minute with a toothache.”

Lucky Philip. No doubt he’d found something better to do than be clawed over by single girls with ticking biological clocks.

“How’s your hedge fund doing in this market?” The brunette, Lally, attempted to look interested. He launched into his standard dinner-party-conversation reply, leaving the rest of his mind free to wonder what about her made his mom see her as third-wife material. She was pretty, mid-twenties, slim as a kebab prong. All things his mom found essential. Personally he preferred a woman with some curves to hold on to, but apparently that wasn’t fashionable anymore. Her teeth looked like Chiclets, or maybe that was an effect of her ultrawide smile and overglossed lips.

“Wow, that’s so cool. It must be wonderful to be good with numbers.”

His mom flapped toward him. “Darling, have you seen Annie? We need her to make up the last team.”

Sinclair stiffened. “She can’t have gone far.” She was probably hiding in the pantry, trying to avoid getting roped into this charade. Since when did anyone over ten play croquet, anyway? “She’s probably busy.”

“Nonsense. I had everything catered and people can help themselves to drinks. I’ll go find her.”

Sinclair swallowed and returned his attention to Lally, who’d moved so close he was in danger of being suffocated by her expensive scent. He resisted the urge to recoil. “What do you do?” This was usually a good question to keep someone talking for a while.

She threw her head back slightly. “It’s rather a revolutionary idea, actually.” She looked about, as if worried someone might overhear and steal it, but with a big smile like she was hoping they would. “I host Botox parties. You know, where people come and have their cares smoothed away.”

Genuine horror provoked Sinclair’s curiosity. “You mean where people come and have a neurotoxin injected into their face?”

She laughed. “It’s absolutely harmless in small doses, otherwise I’d be dead, wouldn’t I?”

Sinclair blinked. “You’ve used Botox? You can’t be a day over twenty-five.”

She winked conspiratorially. “Twenty-nine, but don’t tell a soul. I’m living proof that the product works.” He couldn’t resist staring at her forehead, which was smooth as the backside of his titanium laptop. “Still think it’s crazy?”

“Absolutely.” He had a violent urge to get as far away from Lally as possible, but politeness demanded that he survive this round of croquet first.

“You should invest. I’m going to be taking the company public some time next year. Of course, my main goal is to get bought out by a …” She rambled on, but his attention shifted to the sudden appearance of Annie. His mom had hooked her arm around Annie’s and pulled her onto the lawn. Annie looked rather startled and, he noted with alarm, teary-eyed. Was she okay? Her nose was red as if she’d been crying.

“You don’t need to know the rules. Just follow along. Your team will go last so you’ll have plenty of time to figure it out, and Dwight will be happy to explain anything you miss, won’t you, Dwight?” The tall, sandy-haired male with whom Sinclair had shared a long-ago sailing holiday agreed effusively. Jealousy kicked Sinclair in the gut.

“Are you okay?” He couldn’t help asking her.

Annie looked up with a start. “Sure, I’m fine.” She spoke quickly, her voice rather high. “It’s allergies. They’re terrible at this time of year.”

He frowned. He didn’t remember her having allergies, but no doubt that was just one of the many things he didn’t know about her.

“Sinclair, we’re up first.” The feel of soft fingers on his back made him flinch. Lally tugged him up to the start. “You should watch so you see where the ball goes.” Her vigorous tap sent the ball flying through the first hoop and raised a smatter of applause from the gathered crowd. Lally turned to him beaming, which, he noticed, had no effect on any other part of her face than her mouth. He handed her drink back to her, partly to ease the temptation of knocking it back to dull the pain of being there.

He snuck a glance over her shoulder at Annie. Her eyes had dried and she was engaged in conversation with Dwight about something very entertaining, at least judging from the way she kept laughing. His muscles tightened. What could Dwight be saying that was so funny? He didn’t remember him being such a wit. He strained to hear their conversation, but couldn’t make out a word of it over a nearby damsel bleating about her new vacation villa in Saint Lucia.

Annie’s nose had a light sprinkling of freckles, and a sweet way of wrinkling as she talked. She didn’t throw her chin and limbs around to punctuate her conversation the way the ambitious Lally was currently doing. He managed to nod in pretend interest to her conversational foray about yachting in the Caribbean. But all the while he was sneaking glances at Annie. He was glad her usual attire hid her hourglass figure, with its high, full breasts and slim waist. He could still feel the curve of her shapely backside against his hand.

“What did I do with my drink?” he asked, cutting Lally short.

“I don’t know. Where’s that girl who was passing them out?” She looked behind her. “Oh, there she is. Sinclair needs a drink!”

Sinclair stiffened as Annie looked his way. Her eyebrow lifted slightly. “Of course. Wine, or something stronger?”

He fought the urge to laugh. She could see right through him. “No, no. I’m fine.”

“But you just said—” Lally’s smooth face almost blocked his view of Annie.

“I said, I’m fine. If I need something I’ll get it myself.” His curt response rather startled both women. He attempted to lighten up. “I can’t believe you’re worrying about drinks during this cutthroat game of croquet. Your attention should be fixed entirely on the fate of our balls.”

Dwight guffawed. “Easy for you to say, Sin. Some of us are still holding our balls.” He winked at Annie, and again Sinclair felt a hot flash of unfamiliar emotion.

“Don’t be so crude, Dwight.” Vicki materialized beside him. “You’ll shock Sinclair. He’s a man of old-fashioned tastes and sensibilities.”

She was right, of course. Though he couldn’t understand why his mother had invited Vicki for what was apparently going to be an extended stay. He hadn’t seen her more than in passing for years, and his mom could hardly think Vicki was going to be his next wife. Then again, his mom could get strange ideas.

“My son is a gentleman of the old style.” His mom materialized next to him. Was this some kind of staged sketch where everyone knew their lines except him? “I think we all have a lot to learn from him.”

He snuck another glance at Annie. She was looking down at her croquet mallet like she wished she was anywhere but here. The feeling was mutual. The only safe course of action was to wrap this hellish game up as soon as possible. “My turn, I believe.” Having a strategic nature, he’d been taking mental notes while his opponents tapped their balls ineffectually around the course. He sliced his through the hoop at an angle, taking out two other balls on the way, then drove it hard through the next two hoops without blinking. He would have happily launched it all the way to the home post but that wouldn’t be sporting, so he pretended to miss and set his ball up to knock his opponents’ flying.

“I am glad I’m on your team, Sinclair.” Lally’s un-lined face glowed. “You’re quite ruthless.”

If only he was ruthless enough to tell his mom to leave him in peace and stop trying to enhance his social life. She probably wouldn’t leave him alone until he married again, now she’d got the future of the Drummond dynasty on her mind. On the one hand, he actually liked the idea of having children. They’d be a lot more fun to play croquet with than this crowd. The marriage part, on the other hand, he wasn’t up for at all. Women changed once you put that ring on their finger.

“Hey, Sinclair, do you remember me?” A svelte redhead in a green dress sauntered over, mallet in one hand and drink in the other.

“Of course, Mindy.”

“I hear Diana’s in Greece for the summer.”

Why did people think he’d want to know what his ex-wife was doing? “I imagine that will be good for the Greek economy.”

Mindy laughed. “You’re such a card, Sinclair. And not at all bitter! I love that in a man.”

“I’m glad to see everyone getting along so well.” His mom walked among them, wreathed in smiles and carrying a tray of pastries. “Such a lovely way to spend a summer afternoon.”

“Let me pass those around.” Annie leaped forward and tried to wrest the pastries from his mom’s hand.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” His mom waved her away. “You’re a member of our party now and have a far more important role to play.”

Annie glanced nervously at him. As their eyes met, a jolt of raw and unsettling energy flashed between them. He looked away sharply. Why Annie? Why did he have to share steamy, hungry and unfettered sex in the arms of the one woman he’d previously enjoyed an utterly uncomplicated relationship with?

Obviously the gossips were right and he was simply impossible.

Emotionally exhausted from the effort of not looking at Sinclair, while attempting to make polite small talk and to participate in a game she’d never played before, Annie washed and rinsed the serving platters when all she wanted was to crawl into her bed and sob. Earlier, in an uncharacteristic Cinderella moment, she’d become teary-eyed while plating the caterer’s canapés and watching all those beautiful women pulling into the driveway, dressed to impress and woo him. She’d been discovered mid-sniffle by Katherine. Now she was going to have to stage a pretense of using antihistamine drops and sneezing over flowers for the rest of the summer.

“What’s going on between you and Sinclair?”

She almost had a heart attack when she realized Vicki was standing behind her. Had she been muttering to herself? Did she say something about Sinclair?

“Nothing.”

“Goodness, no need to bite my head off.” Vicki reached for a slightly shriveled cheese puff from a nearby plate that had not yet been cleared. “I can see I’ve hit a nerve.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied.

“Hmm. The color rushing to your cheeks contradicts your words. Don’t tell me you don’t find him attractive, because I wouldn’t believe you. I think he’s gorgeous.” She ate the cheese puff and reached for another. “Handsome and rich. What more could a woman want?”

“Are you asking me a question, or just thinking aloud?” Letting Vicki think she was a mousy pushover didn’t feel like a good idea.

Vicki laughed, tossing back her silky black mane. “Thinking aloud, I suppose. Do you think I’d look good in a wedding picture next to him?” She lifted a slender brow. It was hard to tell if she was joking or not.

The image of her haughty, delicate features next to Sinclair’s sent a fist of hurt to Annie’s heart. “You’d make a very attractive couple,” she said truthfully.

“Shame that isn’t enough, really, is it?” Vicki moved closer and pulled a piece of celery from another platter. Annie wished she could physically shove her out of the kitchen. “Life would be so much easier if you only had to look good together.”

“I suspect Sinclair would agree.” She knew he’d been devastated by the failure of his second marriage. Partly from snippets of conversations she’d overheard, but also by a dramatic shift in his demeanor after his wife left him.

“What happened between him and Diana?”

“I really don’t know.”

“Come on, you’re in the same house.”

“Diana didn’t like Dog Harbor. Too dull. They hardly ever came after they got married.” Though he’d come here a lot afterward, probably to lick his wounds in peace. “I don’t know what they got up to elsewhere.”

“Rather like watching only one story thread on a soap opera.” Vicki leaned one hip against the kitchen counter and crossed her arms. She wore a dress of crinkly white parachute fabric that revealed a lot of slender, barely tanned leg. “I bet you wish you could TiVo the rest of the episodes sometimes.”

“I have plenty of other things to keep me busy.” Annie scrubbed at a stubborn grease spot. “What they did was none of my business.”

“I’m not so sure.” Vicki regarded her silently for a moment. “I’d think that since it’s your job to keep Sinclair happy, what he’s up to is your business.”

Annie threw down her sponge. “My job is to keep the house clean and make sure there’s milk in the fridge when he shows up.” Her voice rose, along with frustration and humiliation at being forced to endure Vicki’s inquisition. If they were on neutral territory she could tell her to get lost, or simply walk away. But here, Vicki was a guest of her employer, so she couldn’t.

“Now, now, don’t burst a blood vessel.” Vicki’s eyes were brightening, if anything. “I suspect there’s a lot more to you behind that placid smile.” She studied Annie’s face for a moment, as Annie’s blood pressure rose. “I’ve seen Sinclair looking at you, too.”

“Why wouldn’t he? I’m his employee.” This was almost unbearable. She was lying with one side of her brain, while the other madly considered Vicki’s bold statements. Was Sinclair really looking at her differently? And how would Vicki know? She hadn’t seen him for years. Probably she was just trying to wind her up. “It’s hard to wash these dishes with you distracting me.”

“So leave them. They’re not going anywhere.”

“I can’t. I have to get dinner ready soon and they’ll be in the way.”

Vicki tilted her head to the side. “It can’t be easy slaving away in the kitchen while everyone else reclines on the patio and sips champagne. I think it would drive me half-mad.”

“It’s my job. We all have one.”

“Do we?”

“Sinclair works very hard at his business.”

Vicki’s eyebrow shot up again. “You are loyal. And I’m sure you’re right. In fact, sometimes I wonder if he’d ever do anything else unless someone forced him into it.”

“Is it wrong to enjoy your work?”

“I think it’s ideal.” Vicki frowned.

“Do you work at an auction house?” Annie couldn’t resist asking. She’d been wondering if Vicki had a real job.

“Between you, me and this wilted stalk of celery, I’m between gigs right now.” She took a bite of the celery.

“I suppose you’re independently wealthy.” She rinsed the dish and put it in the rack.

“Something like that.” Vicki shot her a fake smile. “Gotta dash. It’s been interesting chatting with you.” Annie felt herself relaxing as Vicki moved toward the door with her characteristic floaty walk. “And I still think there’s something going on between you and Sinclair.”

The next morning Katherine asked Annie to help her search the attic. Mercifully, Sinclair was out playing golf with a business prospect, but unfortunately Vicki was there, her violet eyes seeming to peer below the surface of every human interaction.

“This set of hunting knives is probably worth something.” Vicki held one of the tarnished blades up to the light. She jotted something in a little notebook. “I could find a home for it if you like.”

Annie frowned. She’d noticed Vicki taking an interest in many of the items. She’d filled quite a few pages with notes.

“That’s probably a good idea. What would we do with them anyway?”

“They’re just moldering away up here.”

“They are part of the Drummond family history.” Annie felt called upon to suggest that Sinclair might want them someday. Of course it wasn’t her place to say that explicitly.

“True.” Katherine looked thoughtfully at an odd contraption of leather and woven rope. “Though perhaps the Drummonds need to shed some of this unhelpful baggage in order to make room for wonderful new things. That’s what my friend Claire says. She’s mad about feng shui.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Vicki made another note in her book. “Sometimes an object will sit in one place for a hundred years, doing nothing but collect dust, when in another person’s hands it could enjoy full and active use.”

Annie tried to picture some of these objects taking on new lives. Did anyone really have a use for old celluloid shirt collars? Then again, future generations might one day enjoy seeing the crazy things their ancestors wore. “I think Sinclair’s children might have fun going through these things one day.”

Katherine looked up as if shot. She paused a moment, then nodded. “You’re absolutely right, of course, Annie. We’ll put everything back where we found it.”

Annie couldn’t resist a glance at Vicki, who glared at her for a split second, then assumed a forced smile.

She enjoyed a brief flash of pride at defending Sinclair’s inheritance. “Did you hear back from the other branches of the family?” She knew Katherine had sent them both letters.

“Not a word. I phoned about a week after sending the letters. I left a message with some elderly Scottish person at the family estate in the Highlands, but no one has called back. For the Florida branch, I left a message on some robotic voice mail system so I don’t even know if anyone heard it. Exasperating, really. It would be pointless finding one part of the cup if we can’t convince them to produce the others.”

“Do they even know about the cup?” Annie sorted through some mismatched plates.

“They do now, if they got my letters. I know there’s bad blood between the branches of the family, but it’s time to put that behind us. Sinclair’s father is gone, and so are most of the Drummonds of his generation. Which is proof enough that the family needs to change its luck. The ones in charge now are all Sinclair’s age, or close, and have no reason to feel enmity toward each other. Young people these days don’t carry centuries-old grudges for no reason.”

“Or do they?” Vicki asked enigmatically.

“Sinclair doesn’t.” Katherine shook out a brocaded jacket. “Of course, the flipside is that he shows no interest whatsoever in the family or its history.” She sighed and let the jacket fall in her lap. “Including the pressing need to produce the next generation.”

Annie cringed. If she wasn’t on birth control she might have had the next generation of Drummonds growing inside her right now. They certainly hadn’t stopped to chat about contraception in their rush to tear each other’s clothes off.

“There’s still plenty of time.” Vicki looked up from making notes on a set of spoons. “He’s young.”

“I know, but I’m not. I want to enjoy my grandchildren while I’m healthy and energetic enough to have fun with them.”

Annie wanted to laugh. Katherine Drummond barely looked forty-five. Though that was probably due to the art of a number of fine surgeons and dermatologists. She was probably somewhere in her late fifties. Hardly old, however you looked at it.

“Sinclair will find the right woman eventually.” Vicki peered into a small wooden chest.

“Will he? I’m not so sure. He found the first two by himself and I think it’s time I took over. He needs women who aren’t so driven by personal ambition. Sinclair doesn’t want to set the world on fire or fly around in private jets every weekend. He needs someone quiet and simple.”

Annie’s soul nodded in agreement. Maybe she really was perfect for Sinclair, and they’d all realize it if she only waited patiently.

Vicki laughed. “I’m not sure many women want to be described that way. I know I wouldn’t.”

“I don’t mean simple-minded, just someone without complex ulterior motives. Sinclair is a simple man, brilliant—”

“And gorgeous….”

“But simple.” Katherine and Vicki said it together, then laughed. Annie had a feeling Sinclair would hate being discussed in this trivializing fashion. Didn’t they care if he loved the woman?

“So I take it this means I’m not supposed to sink my own claws into him.” Vicki lifted a cloudy etched-glass trophy and peered at it. Or pretended to.

Katherine shrugged. “For all I know, you’re the breath of fresh air he needs. At least you’ve always been a straight shooter and everyone knows where they stand with you.”

“Some would say that’s my least attractive feature.”

“Only if you don’t want to hear the truth.” Katherine smiled.

Annie’s mind raced. Had Vicki been telling the truth about how Sinclair looked at her? Maybe he really was still attracted to her. Or perhaps even had deeper feelings.

Heat rushed inside her and she walked to the far end of the attic to bury herself in shadows. If these women had any idea what was going through her mind—and who knew what powers of perception Vicki possessed beyond those she boasted—they’d be scandalized. As it was, they talked about Sinclair’s love life right in front of her as if she didn’t exist. It obviously didn’t cross Katherine’s mind that her beloved son might have had an affair, no matter how brief, with the woman who served the brie en croute and refilled her wineglass.

She let out a quiet sigh.

“He didn’t seem to like Lally much, did he?”

“Not at all. I think that shows excellent taste on his part.”

“She’s from a very good family,” said Katherine with conviction.

“Is that important?”

“I think so. Don’t you?”

“Not in the least. I’ve always secretly dreamed of marrying one of the dastardly Drummonds, despite the family’s dubious reputation.”

“Oh, Vicki. You and Sinclair would make a striking couple.”

“So I was telling Annie.” Vicki shot a glance at her, where she hid in the shadows. “She completely agreed.”

Katherine clapped her hands together and laughed. “Well, then, maybe things are moving in the right direction.”

Vicki glanced at Annie again, as if seeking her gaze, but Annie kept herself busy rummaging through a tall chest of drawers. Was Vicki deliberately trying to torment her? Maybe she took pleasure in the fact that she could have Sinclair if she wanted to, and Annie couldn’t.

Whoever said life was supposed to be fair? Her grandmother’s ominous words rang in her ears. If she wanted to keep her sanity, she needed to forget that wild afternoon of lovemaking ever happened.

If only it were that easy.