Нора Робертс – A Will And A Way (страница 4)

But there was one clear, inarguable fact. She’d loved her uncle. How could she live with herself if she denied him a last wish? Or a last joke.

Six months. Stopping, she studied Michael as he studied her. Six months could be a very long time, especially when you weren’t pleased with what you were doing. There was only one way to speed things up. She’d enjoy herself.

“Tell me, cousin, how can we live under the same roof for six months without coming to blows?”

“We can’t.”

He’d answered without a second’s hesitation, so she laughed again. “I suppose I’d be bored if we did. I can tidy up loose ends and move in in three days. Four at the most.”

“That’s fine.” When his shoulders relaxed, he realized he’d been tensed for her refusal. At the moment he didn’t want to question why it mattered so much. Instead he held out a hand. “Deal.”

Pandora inclined her head just before her palm met his. “Deal,” she agreed, surprised that his hand was hard and a bit callused. She’d expected it to be rather soft and limp. After all, all he did was type. Perhaps the next six months would have some surprises.

“Shall we go tell the others?”

“They’ll want to murder us.”

Her smile came slowly, subtly shifting the angles of her face. It was, Michael thought, at once wicked and alluring. “I know. Try not to gloat.”

When they stepped out, several griping relatives had spilled out into the hallway. They did what they did best together. They argued.

“You’d blow your share on barbells and carrot juice,” Biff said spitefully to Hank. “At least I know what to do with money.”

“Lose it on horses,” Monroe said, and blew out a stream of choking cigar smoke. “Invest. Tax deferred.”

“You could use yours to take a course in how to speak in complete sentences.” Carlson stepped out of the smoke and straightened his tie. “I’m the old man’s only living son. It’s up to me to prove he was incompetent.”

“Uncle Jolley had more competence than the lot of you put together.” Feeling equal parts frustration and disgust, Pandora stepped forward. “He gave you each exactly what he wanted you to have.”

Biff drew out a flat gold cigarette case as he glanced over at his cousin. “It appears our Pandora’s changed her mind about the money. Well, you worked for it, didn’t you, darling?”

Michael put his hand on Pandora’s shoulder and squeezed lightly before she could spring. “You’d like to keep your profile, wouldn’t you, cousin?”

“It appears writing for television’s given you a taste for violence.” Biff lit his cigarette and smiled. If he’d thought he could get in a blow below the belt… “I think I’ll decline a brawl,” he decided.

“Well, I think it’s fair.” Hank’s wife came forward, stretching out her hand. She gave both Pandora and Michael a hearty shake. “You should put a gym in this place. Build yourself up a little. Come on, Hank.”

Silent, and his shoulders straining the material of his suit, Hank followed her out.

“Nothing but muscles between the head,” Carlson mumbled. “Come, Mona.” He strode ahead of his wife, pausing long enough to level a glare at Pandora and Michael. The inevitable line ran though Michael’s mind before Carlson opened his mouth and echoed it. “You haven’t heard the last of this.”

Pandora gave him her sweetest smile. “Have a nice trip home, Uncle Carlson.”

“Probate,” Monroe said with a grunt, and waddled his way out behind them.

Patience fluttered her hands. “Key West, for heaven’s sake. I’ve never been south of Palm Beach. My, oh my.”

“Oh, Michael.” Fluttering her lashes, Ginger placed a hand on his arm. “When do you think I might have my mirror?”

He glanced down into her perfectly lovely, heart-shaped face. Her eyes were as pure a blue as tropical waters. He thanked God Jolley hadn’t asked that he spend six months with Cousin Ginger. “I’m sure Mr. Fitzhugh will have it shipped to you as soon as possible.”

“Come along, Ginger, we’ll give you a ride to the airport.” Biff pulled Ginger’s hand through his arm, patted it and smiled down at Pandora. “I’d be worried if I didn’t know you better. You won’t last six days with Michael much less six months. Beastly temper,” he said confidentially to Michael. “The two of you’ll murder each other before a week’s out.”

“Don’t spend the old man’s money yet,” Michael warned. “We’ll make the six months if for no other reason than to spite you.” He smiled when he said it, a chummy, well-meaning smile that took the arrogance from Biff’s face.

“We’ll see who wins the game.” Straight backed, Biff turned toward the door. His wife walked out behind him without having said a word since she’d walked in.

“Biff,” Ginger began as they walked out. “What are you going to do with all those matches?”

“Burn his bridges, I hope,” Pandora muttered. “Well, Michael, though I can’t say there was a lot of love before, there’s nearly none lost now.”

“Are you worried about alienating them?”

With a shrug of her shoulders, she walked toward a bowl of roses, then gave him a considering look. “Well, I’ve never had any trouble alienating you. Why is that, do you suppose?”

“Jolley always said we were too much alike.”

“Really?” Haughty, she lifted a brow. “I find myself disagreeing with him again. You and I, Michael Donahue, have almost nothing in common.”

“If that’s so we have six months to prove it.” On impulse he moved closer and put a finger under her chin. “You know, darling, you might’ve been stuck with Biff.”

“I’d’ve given the place to the plants first.”

He grinned. “I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be.” But she didn’t move away from him. Not yet. It was an interesting feeling to be this close without snarling. “The only difference is you don’t bore me.”

“That’s enough,” he said with a hint of a smile. “I’m easily flattered.” Intrigued, he flicked a finger down her cheek. It was still pale, but her eyes were direct and steady. “No, we won’t bore each other Pandora. In six months we might experience a lot of things, but boredom won’t be one of them.”

It might be an interesting feeling, she discovered, but it wasn’t quite a safe one. It was best to remember that he didn’t find her appealing as a woman but would, for the sake of his own ego, string her along if she permitted it. “I don’t flatter easily. I haven’t decided exactly what your reasons are for going through with this farce, but I’m doing it only for Uncle Jolley. I can set up my equipment here quite easily.”

“And I can write here quite easily.”

Pandora plucked a rose from the bowl. “If you can call those implausible scripts writing.”

“The same way you call the bangles you string together art.”

Color came back to her cheeks and that pleased him. “You wouldn’t know art if it reached up and bit you on the nose. My jewelry expresses emotion.”

His smile showed pleasant interest. “How much is lust going for these days?”

“I would have guessed you’d be very familiar with the cost.” Pandora fumbled for a tissue, sneezed into it, then shut her bag with a click. “Most of the women you date have price tags.”

It amused him, and it showed. “I thought we were talking about work.”

“My profession is a time-honored one, while yours—yours stops for commercial breaks. And furthermore—”

“I beg your pardon.”

Fitzhugh paused at the doorway of the library. He wanted nothing more than to be shed of the McVie clan and have a quiet, soothing drink. “Am I to assume that you’ve both decided to accept the terms of the will?”

Six months, she thought. It was going to be a long, long winter.

Six months, he thought. He was going to have the first daffodil he found in April bronzed.

“You can start counting the days at the end of the week,” he told Fitzhugh. “Agreed, cousin?”

Pandora set her chin. “Agreed.”

Chapter Two

It was a pleasant trip from Manhattan along the Hudson River toward the Catskills. Pandora had always enjoyed it. The drive gave her time to clear her mind and relax. But then, she’d always taken it at her own whim, her own pace, her own convenience. Pandora made it a habit to do everything just that way. This time, however, there was more involved than her own wants and wishes. Uncle Jolley had boxed her in.

He’d known she’d have to go along with the terms of the will. Not for the money. He’d been too smart to think she could be lured into such a ridiculous scheme with money. But the house, her ties to it, her need for the continuity of family. That’s what he’d hooked her with.

Now she had to leave Manhattan behind for six months. Oh, she’d run into the city for a few hours here and there, but it was hardly the same as living in the center of things. She’d always liked that—being in the center, surrounded by movement, being able to watch and become involved whenever she liked. Just as she’d always liked long weekends in the solitude of Jolley’s Folley.

She’d been raised that way, to enjoy and make the most of whatever environment she was in. Her parents were gypsies. Wealth had meant they’d traveled first class instead of in covered wagons. If there’d been campfires, there had also been a servant to gather kindling, but the spirit was the same.

Before she’d been fifteen, Pandora had been to more than thirty countries. She’d eaten sushi in Tokyo, roamed the moors in Cornwall, bargained in Turkish markets. A succession of tutors had traveled with them so that by her calculations, she’d spent just under two years in a classroom environment before college.