Virgin Princess, Tycoon’s Temptation / The Secret Child & The Cowboy CEO: Virgin Princess, Tycoon’s Temptation. Michelle Celmer
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was wondering what you’re doing Sunday afternoon. I thought you might like to come over.”
He chuckled. “I suppose it’s too much to expect that I might get to ask you on a date.”
“Am I being too forward?” she asked, sounding worried.
“No, not at all. I like a woman who knows what she wants.”
“I just wanted to catch you before you made other plans.”
“If I’d made other plans, I would cancel them. And in answer to your question, I would very much like to come over. If it’s all right with your family, that is.”
“Of course it is. They love you.”
That must have meant he’d passed the initiation. Not that he ever doubted he would. It was just nice to know that he’d scaled the first major obstacle.
“I thought maybe we could have a picnic,” Louisa suggested. “Out on the bluff, overlooking the ocean.”
“Just the two of us?”
“My parents and Anne will be leaving for England, and Chris and Melissa are going sailing. Liv will probably be tied up in the lab and lately Aaron has been down there assisting her. And as long as I stay on the grounds I don’t need security at my heels, so we’ll be alone.”
He didn’t miss the suggestive lilt in her tone, and wondered what she expected they might be doing, other than picnicking that is.
“Muffin will be there, too, of course,” she added.
“Muffin?”
“My dog. You would have met him today, but he was with the groomer and then his behaviorist. He’s a Shih Tzu.”
So, Muffin was one of those small yappy dogs that Garrett found overwhelmingly annoying. He preferred real dogs, like the shepherds and border collies they kept on the farm. Intelligent dogs with a brain larger than a walnut.
“He can be a bit belligerent at times,” Louisa said, “but he’s very sweet. I know you’ll love him.”
“I’m sure I will,” he lied, and reminded himself again that this relationship would require making adjustments. It was just one more issue he could address after they were married.
The front bell rang and Garrett frowned. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Who would make a social call this late?
“Was that your door?” Louisa asked.
“Yes, but I’m not expecting anyone.”
“Could it be a lady friend perhaps?” Her tone was light, but he could hear an undercurrent of concern.
“The only woman in my life is you, Your Highness,” he assured her, and could feel her smile into the phone.
The bell rang again. Whoever it was, they were bloody well impatient.
“I won’t keep you,” she said.
“What time would you like me there Sunday?”
“Let’s say 11:00 a.m. We can make a day of it.”
“Sounds perfect,” he said, even though he’d never really been the picnicking type. He would much rather take her out to eat—preferably at the finest restaurant in town—but the heightened security was going to make dating a challenge.
They said their goodbyes and by the time Garrett made it to the door, the bell rang a third time. “I’m coming,” he grumbled under his breath. He pulled the door open, repressing a groan when he saw who was standing there.
“What, you’re not happy to see your baby brother?”
Not at all, in fact, but he did his best not to look too exasperated. “Last I heard you were working a cattle ranch in Scotland.”
Ian shrugged and said, “Got bored. Besides, I have something big in the works. A brilliant plan.”
In other words, he was let go and had formulated some new get-rich-quick scheme. One that, like all his other brilliant plans, would undoubtedly crash and burn.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Ian asked with forced cheer, but the rumpled clothes, long hair and the week’s worth of beard stubble said this was anything but a friendly social call.
Letting Ian in was tantamount to inviting a vampire into the house. He had a gift for bleeding dry his host both emotionally and financially and an annoying habit of staying far past his welcome.
It was hard to believe that he was once the sweet little boy Garrett used to sit on his knee and read to, then tuck into bed at night. For the first eight years of Ian’s life, he was Garrett’s shadow.
“Mum and Dad turn you away?” Garrett asked, and he could see by Ian’s expression that they had. Not that Garrett blamed them.
The cheery facade fell and Ian faced him with pleading eyes, looking tired and defeated. “Please, Garrett. I spent my last dime on a boat to the island and I haven’t had a proper meal in days.”
Or a shower, guessing by the stench, and it was more likely that he’d conned his way to the island than paid a penny for passage. But he looked so damned pathetic standing there. Despite everything, Ian was still his brother. His family. The only family who would bother to give him the time of day.
Knowing he would probably regret it later, Garrett moved aside so his brother could step into the foyer. The cool evening air that followed him inside sent a chill down Garrett’s back and when Ian dropped his duffel on the floor, a plume of dust left a dirty ring on the Italian ceramic tile. He would consider it a bad omen if he believed in that sort of thing.
“Spacious,” Ian said, gazing around the foyer and up the wide staircase to the second floor. “You’ve done well for yourself.”
“Don’t touch anything.” Things had a mysterious habit of finding their way into Ian’s pockets and disappearing forever. “And take off your boots. I don’t want you trailing mud on my floors.”
“Could I trouble you for a shower?” Ian asked as he kicked off his boots, revealing socks so filthy and full of holes they barely covered his feet.
“You can use the one in the spare bedroom.” It was the room that possessed the least valuable items. “Up the stairs, first door on the right. I’ll fix something to eat.”
Ian nodded, grabbed his duffel and headed up the stairs. Garrett considered wiping up the dust on the floor, but there would probably be more where that came from, so he decided to take care of it in the morning after Ian was gone. He walked to the kitchen instead and put a kettle on for tea, then rummaged through the icebox to see what leftovers his housekeeper had stashed there. He found a glass dish with a generous portion of pot roast, baked red skin potatoes and buttered baby carrots from last night’s dinner.
He reached for a plate then figured, why dirty another dish, and set the whole thing in the microwave.
While he waited for it to heat, he noticed his wallet lying on the counter and out of habit slipped it into his pants pocket. He wasn’t worried about the cash so much as his credit and ATM cards. The last time Ian had stayed with their brother Victor, he’d run off with his Mastercard and charged several thousand pounds’ worth of purchases before Vic even realized the card was missing. Electronic equipment mostly, which Garrett figured Ian had probably sold for cash.
Garrett wasn’t taking any chances. After a shower and a meal and a good night’s sleep, he would loan Ian a few hundred pounds—that he knew would never be repaid—and send him on his merry way. With any luck, he wouldn’t darken Garrett’s doorway again for a very long time.
Ian emerged a few minutes later, freshly shaven, his hair still damp, wearing rumpled but clean clothes. “Best shower I ever had,” he told Garrett.
“I made you tea.”
He