Heidi Betts – How To Seduce An Heiress: The Reluctant Heiress / Pride After Her Fall / Project: Runaway Heiress (страница 8)

She shrugged. “I don’t think about that. I’m accustomed to being on my own. I don’t ever want to be in the situation my mother was in—in love with my dad who never returned that love fully.”

“Your dad—you knew him?”

“What I told you last night wasn’t completely accurate. He was around off and on all my life,” she said, feeling a stab of pain and anger that had never left her. “My dad wouldn’t marry my mother. He practically ignored me except for financial support.”

“You said he was married?” Garrett said.

“Not by the time I was a teenager, but he didn’t want to get tied down again. Whenever he came to visit, it tore her up each time he left. She would cry for several days. He was the only man she ever loved,” Sophia stated bitterly. “He had a family—boys. He would go home to them. I couldn’t do anything to help her or stop her tears. When I was little, we both cried. I cried for her and she cried over him.”

“That’s tough,” Garrett said. “He ignored you?”

“In his way he provided for me. But looking back, I don’t think he knew how to deal with a little girl. He brought me all kinds of presents. I can remember reaching an age where I smashed some of them to bits. Mom just started giving them to charities. I didn’t want anything from him.”

“How old were you then?”

“Probably about eight or nine. He was polite to me and Mom saw to it that I was polite to him, but we weren’t together a whole lot. He never talked to me other than hello and goodbye. I rarely heard him say my name. When I was little I wondered whether he knew it. Often, I would be sent to my grandmother’s, which I loved, or out with my nanny when he was coming. Worked fine for me. I didn’t want to see him.”

“Yet your mother always loved him.”

“She did. And I don’t ever want to fall into that trap. The best way to avoid it is to keep relationships from becoming too deep.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t base everything on the actions of your father.”

“That’s the legacy he left me—a deep fear of any relationship that isn’t totally committed.”

“Sorry, Sophia,” Garrett said with a somber note.

“How’d we get on this?” she asked, wanting to avoid thinking and talking about her blood father. She wanted him out of her life and thoughts as much as humanly possible.

“I’m interested in your life and finding out about you. Did he ever try to make it up to you?”

She thought of the inheritance Argus Delaney had left her. “He always showered Mom with money. Money was his solution for everything. He paid her medical bills, but by the time the end of her life came, we had enough money to manage on our own. No matter what happened, she always loved him. And I’ve always hated him,” she said.

“At least he was good to her,” Garrett said gently. “And generous.”

“I suppose I should be grateful, but I can’t be. He left money when he died—money I don’t want one penny of,” she said.

“He’s gone. He’ll never know whether you take his money or refuse it. Why not take it and enjoy it? It should be yours.”

She shook her head, feeling the familiar current of fury that she had lived with as long as she could remember.

“I don’t want anything to do with him.”

“You could do a lot with your inheritance.”

“I’ll never touch it,” she said, trying to shift her focus off the past and onto Garrett, thinking he would be fascinating to paint. His rugged features gave him a distinctive individualism and his unique gray eyes were unforgettable. Desire stirred and once again, she struggled to pay attention to their conversation.

He was studying her intently. “Sophia—” He paused, his eyes holding secrets. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“What? What were you going to say?”

He looked away. “I’ll check on the steaks.” She watched him stride to the cooker and she wondered for the second time this evening what it was he’d been about to say to her. Probably more advice about taking her inheritance, which she’d already heard enough of from Edgar.

“The steaks are ready.”

She stood, going with him to help get tossed salads, potatoes and water on the table. Soon they sat on the terrace to eat thick, juicy steaks.

“It’s a wonder you ever travel for pleasure. It’s gorgeous here and you have every convenience.”

“I like it here, but I like my other places, too.”

“I guess I can understand since I enjoy Santa Fe and Taos and even the cabin in the mountains as much as living in Houston.” She took a bite of her steak. “You’re a very good cook. The steak is delicious,” she said, surprised because he’d seemed to pay little attention to his cooking.

“I’m glad you think so.”

“I should have watched you more closely. I invariably burn them.”

“You can watch me as closely as you want,” he replied with a twinkle.

“I opened the door for that one,” she said, smiling at him. “So how did you get into property management?” she asked, picking up her water glass to take a sip. A faint breeze caught his hair, blowing it gently. His hair was thick, and she thought about how it felt to run her fingers through it.

“My dad had the business,” he was saying. “He was into property management and finance. I was raised to follow in his footsteps and groomed to take over his businesses.”

“Businesses? There are others?”

“Yes, but I’m not directly involved in most of them. Hardly involved at all. They’re investments.”

“And that leaves you free to play around,” she said. “So what do you actually do?” she asked, flirting with him while trying to satisfy her curiosity about him and his life.

He smiled at her. “More than play around, although I hope to do that tonight. Dinner—get to know you—kiss you. That’s what I want to do in the next few hours,” he said, his voice deepening and making her tingle.

“I don’t really know you. Do you work, Garrett, or does the playboy lifestyle fit you?”

“I work, but not tonight, so we can get away from that subject. You aren’t eating, and I’ve lost my appetite for this steak. Let’s sit where it’s more comfortable to talk. We can take our drinks with us.”

She was leaving a half-eaten steak, yet she couldn’t resist his suggestion. Her interest in food had disappeared with Garrett’s flirting. He took her hand and she stood, going with him, her insides tingling the moment he touched her.

Garrett sat close on the couch. Her perfume was an exotic fragrance and he liked the faint scent. Her long hair was silky in his fingers as he twisted and toyed with the strands. She was stunning and he couldn’t get enough of her. And yet, he was racked with guilt.

When she had talked about Argus Delaney, Garrett felt awful that he wasn’t telling her the truth about who he was. Twice he had been on the verge, almost confessing and then pausing, waiting because it seemed the wisest course to follow. If he confessed the truth now, he was certain he would be finished. It was too soon, but knowing that didn’t ease his conscience.

“What about you and marriage?” she asked.

“I’m a workaholic, I suppose,” he said, stretching out his long legs. “I haven’t ever been deeply in love,” he admitted. “I don’t feel ready for marriage or getting tied down. Right now, my life is devoted to my work.”

“Pretty ordinary attitude when someone is tied up in work,” she stated.

As he gazed into her eyes, he wondered what it would be like to come home to her every night—to make love to her night and day. His thoughts surprised him. Sophia stirred him in a way no woman before her ever had. He had never had long-term thoughts or speculation about a woman before. Not even when he had been in a relationship. “I owe you an elegant dinner and dancing instead of sitting at my house and eating my cooking and helping me hang your painting,” he said, trying to get focused again on the present and stop imagining a future with her. That kind of thinking disturbed him. Because it was totally uncustomary.

“I’m enjoying the evening. You don’t owe me an elegant dinner,” she said. “This has been nice and you’re an interesting man, Garrett Cantrell.”

Garrett smiled at her. “You barely know me. And I lead an ordinary life.”

“Why do I doubt that statement? You’ve bought two of my paintings. That alone makes you interesting.”

“Next time we go to your house and I get to see where you paint,” he said.

“It’s a typical studio with brushes and paint smears. I don’t think it’s quite as interesting as your workshop.”

“If it’s yours, it’s interesting. Have you painted all your life?”

“Actually, yes. I loved drawing and painting. Of course, what little girl doesn’t?”

As she talked about painting when she was a child, his mind returned to the problem. He hated not telling her about the Delaneys, yet he had heard the bitterness, felt her anger smoldering. He wanted to be up front with her—his guilt was deepening by the minute.

He realized she was staring at him with a quizzical smile. “What?” he asked.

“You haven’t heard one word I’ve been saying, Garrett. Is there something you want to tell me? What are you thinking about?”

He focused on her lips before looking into her eyes again while desire consumed him. He didn’t want to admit the truth yet and the burden of guilt was becoming unbearable, but one way to avoid both was to stop her questions with kisses