Her Christmas Surprise. Kristin Hardy
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though. Olivia had babbled about her leading Bradley astray. Lex wasn’t so sure of that. Bradley was quite capable of getting into trouble on his own; he didn’t need Keely to help him.
Which didn’t mean Lex hadn’t always found her irritating on general principles. She was part of the perfect plastic world he’d walked away from, one of the twin-set-wearing, country-club tennis players headed off to get their Mrs. degrees at college. He didn’t want to remember seeing her at the club when he was almost eighteen, just before he’d left home for good. She’d been maybe fourteen if she was lucky, on the court in a little white skirt, a disturbingly innocent sexuality in her coltish legs and unself-conscious strides.
She might have been a kid then, but she was all grown up now. And if she’d disturbed him then, he had a pretty good feeling that now she could send him right around the bend. There was something about her, not quite beautiful but interesting. She’d photograph well, he thought. At first glance, she seemed cool, controlled—smooth blond hair, brows perfectly arched above soft gray eyes, slightly tilted cheekbones that threw just enough shadow to be intriguing.
But there was something else about her, something hovering in her gaze, something about the way her mouth managed to be both delicate and enticing at the same time. It was a combination that caught at a man’s imagination, a combination that might make a man do anything to try to unlock the secret.
Even steal millions, if he had to.
Maybe Olivia wasn’t so far off base after all.
“I thought you were supposed to be in New York,” he said, without realizing he was going to.
“And I thought you were supposed to be smuggling in Outer Mongolia,” she replied coolly.
It amused him. Almost. “I came home to help my mother with this whole legal mess. I guess you’d know something about that.”
Her chin came up at his words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing more than it sounds like. I’d hope you know about it. Bradley is your fiancé, after all.”
“Ex-fiancé,” she said, with a bit more of an edge.
Interesting. “Ex? When did that happen? Before the feds showed up or after?”
She flushed and turned to take the bag and the coffee carrier Darlene handed her. “I’m not sure it’s any of your business.”
“This entire mess is my business whether I want it to be or not. You and Bradley are the whole reason I’m here.”
Her stare was bland as she walked over to the ledge that held sugar and creamer and spices. “For what, our wedding? How touching.” She sifted a bit of cinnamon over her latte before taking a drink of it.
“Don’t be cute. There’s trouble and you know it. My mother called me to help out.”
“Who, Bradley?”
“Both of them.”
“The only way to get Bradley out of trouble is to find him.” She put the cover back on the cup.
“So why don’t you?”
“Find him?”
“You’ve got to have an idea where he is.”
“I haven’t a clue. Anyway, you’d probably do better at finding him than I would. You’re another one who knows how to leave and stay gone, from what I hear.”
“And now I’m back.”
“So you are.” She set the muffin bag in the middle of the carrier and turned toward the door. “And now I’m gone.”
He followed her outside. “Back to New York? Doesn’t seem like it would be too much fun right now.” He’d caught sight of the lurid headlines in the airport. Contempt had had him ignoring the scandal sheets with their blurred paparazzi pictures or he probably would have seen Keely. That was where the brittleness came in, he was guessing.
“It’s none of your business where I go. The engagement’s off. I’m done with Bradley. And the rest of you. If it weren’t for your brother, I wouldn’t even be back in this town.”
Just as Bradley was the reason he was back. Irritation pricked at him. “Tell me where Bradley is and we can all go home.”
“I told you, I don’t know.”
“You can’t really expect me to believe that.”
“I don’t care what you believe.”
She moved to turn away but he captured her free wrist in his hand. Her skin was smooth under his fingers, and impossibly soft. “Not so fast. We need to talk.”
She turned on him. “We don’t have anything to talk about.”
“Oh, I think we’ve got plenty.”
For a breathless instant, they stood, toe to toe, gazes clashing. The seconds ticked by, then abruptly, surprisingly, her eyes darkened. Desire punched through him, sudden and unexpected.
Deliberately, she glanced down to where he held her. “Let me go.” Her voice was icy calm.
He wondered if she had any idea how hard her pulse was thudding against his fingers.
Well, well, well, he thought, Keely Stafford wasn’t nearly as cool as she tried to pretend. It hadn’t been his imagination. There was heat under that calm, composed exterior.
“All right.” He was surprised at the effort it took to make his fingers release her. “For now,” he said.
“For good,” she countered. “I’ve had enough of you Alexanders to last me a lifetime.”
“You haven’t had me.”
“You’re the last one I need.” Her voice was low.
“Maybe,” he said, leaning closer and brushing one fingertip over her chin just to feel her skin. “But don’t think you’ve seen the last of me.”
“Go to hell,” she snapped, and walked away.
And he stood and watched her go.
Chapter Three
It was infuriating, Keely thought the next morning as she did a flip turn at the end of the lane in her parents’ indoor pool. He’d put his hand on her and she’d just stared at him like some idiot. Not like some idiot, like some ditzy thirteen-year-old staring at the football captain. So maybe Trey Alexander—excuse her, Lex—exuded a rough kind of charm, but she wasn’t about to let it work on her. One Alexander brother had been enough.
One Alexander brother had been too much. Men, in general, were too much for her just then. She stroked rhythmically, trying to let the soothing slide of water wash away the tension. There was nothing to put a person off relationships quite like walking in on their fiancé in flagrante delicto. Every time she closed her eyes she could see it. How long had it been going on? How long had he been running around behind her back, making love with another woman? Or other women, plural. How many of them had there been?
And had he ever come to her bed from another’s?
In a swift, fluid movement, she pushed up out of the pool. It would be a long time before she trusted her judgment again when it came to men. It would be a long time before she gave herself a chance to.
Keely rose to walk toward her towel and found it held by a tall, sandy-haired man with a bemused smile. “Need this, pumpkin?”
She grinned at her father. “I’d give you a hug but I’d get you all wet.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Carter Stafford said, wrapping the thick, white towel around her and giving her a quick squeeze. “I’m working from my home office today.”
“Is that why the khakis?” she asked, squeezing him back. Above them, light danced