She basked in his approval.
“You have to love the devious way a woman’s mind works,” Mitch added. Tara fought a wince at the jab, and Rand scowled at him.
“Can we have a minute?” Mitch asked Rand and tilted his head toward Tara.
Rand suspected he knew where his brother’s train of thought was headed, but he had to hear him out. “Sure. Tara, would you get me a list of the ships’ arrival times and dates for the next quarter?”
Mitch didn’t speak again until after the door closed behind Tara. “You’re trusting her?”
After what he’d revealed to Mitch two weeks ago, Rand understood his brother’s skepticism. “In this, I am.”
“Man, you’re screwing her again, aren’t you? Are you in love with her again, too?”
The muscles in Rand’s back snapped tight. “I was never in love with Tara.”
“Bull. Last time Nadia and I took bets on how long you would hold out before you decided to risk the Kincaid Curse and marry the woman.”
Rand rose and paced to the window. He stared out at the port, at all that open space but the sense of confinement remained. “Do I look that stupid? Loving a Kincaid is bad news. Besides our parents’ lousy marriage, neither you, Nadia or I have had one good relationship between us.”
“Nadia came close.”
Hands on his hips, he faced his brother. “Yeah, and that turned out great. Her husband and the baby she carried were killed leaving the wedding reception. Have you talked to her?”
“No. I keep meaning to call.”
“I’ll call her tonight. Tell her what’s going on. See if she has any input.”
“Terms of the will say she can’t work.”
“What kind of crazy, manipulative crap is that? She has to stay unemployed and house-sit for a year?”
Mitch shrugged. “Dad wasn’t crazy, Rand, despite what you think. And after his first stroke—”
Shock rippled over him. “Stroke? What stroke?”
“The one he had eleven months ago. It was mild. The doctors fixed him up with some clot-busting miracle drug, and he had almost no lingering effects. Didn’t even miss a day of work.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“He ordered us not to. He wanted you to come back on your own.”
“Crawl back, you mean.” Even when facing death his father hadn’t wanted him around. Nice to know.
Mitch shook his head. “Believe it or not, I think he respected you more for leaving than he would have if you’d stayed. He kept tabs on Wayfarer. And you.”
The claustrophobic sensation intensified. “He should have kept tabs on Rendezvous.”
“As CFO, that was my job.”
“You don’t have access to the full scope of paperwork. The CEO’s office does. But we both know Dad was never a hands-on manager. We will get to the bottom of this, Mitch. If I accomplish nothing else this year, I will straighten out the mess he left behind.”
“Just don’t make a bigger one of your own with your PA. And for godsakes don’t knock her up like Dad did that Corbin woman.”
“I won’t. Fifty more weeks, and then Tara and I are done.”
Never mind that Tara brought him more satisfaction in bed and out than any other woman. Their relationship was about sex. Nothing more. Nothing less.
And it was temporary. He couldn’t let it be anything else.
“Take a break.” Rand’s voice interrupted Tara’s concentration.“What?”
“That’s the third time you’ve massaged your neck in the last ten minutes.”
She lowered her hand to the kitchen table where they’d spread the Rendezvous data she’d printed out and blinked her gritty eyes. Hours of poring over columns of numbers had given her a headache, and it was getting more difficult to focus. “Sorry.”
“It’s tedious, mind-numbing work and we’re both tired.” He stood and stretched, mesmerizing Tara with his lithe, powerful body.
Arousal and renewed energy rushed through her. “I’ll make coffee.”
“No. It’s late. We need to go to bed. This can wait until tomorrow.” He turned and walked into the den.
Tara rose on surprisingly unsteady legs. Would he sleep with her tonight? Onboard the ship Rand had shared her bed because he had to. Here he had his own room. Should she invite and/or entice him? Or see what happened?
The old Tara would have waited for him to make the first move. What would the new Tara do?
“Is this your mother?” he called from the den before she could make a decision or formulate a plan.
Tara joined him. He held the picture from the mantel in his hand. “Yes.”
“You have her hair.”
She reached up self-consciously and touched a curl that had slipped free from her tightly pulled-back style. “No. She has mine. I had it cut and made into a wig for her.”
His head snapped in her direction. He searched her hair and face through narrowed eyes. “You can do that?”
“Yes. There are several companies that make custom wigs. It’s not cheap, but it was worth every penny. It made her less self-conscious about going out after she lost her hair.”
“She had chemotherapy?”
Her throat clogged. She nodded. “Several courses. It was brutal.”
He replaced the frame without taking his gaze from hers. “When did you find out?”
“About?”
“Her diagnosis.”
“Twenty days after you left for Europe.”
His jaw shifted. “And you told my father.”
“I—Yes. I couldn’t help it…I kind of lost it one day in the office.” Embarrassment warmed her cheeks.
“The bastard,” Rand spat out. He pivoted sharply and paced to stand at the window overlooking the backyard. She hadn’t drawn the curtains yet and fireflies flickered in the darkness. Rand’s spine looked as straight and rigid as steel. His hands fisted and released by his side.
“What do you mean?”
He turned and she caught her breath at the suppressed fury in his eyes. “My father’s forte was finding a woman’s weak spot and exploiting it.”
“I don’t think that’s what he—”
He closed the distance between them in three swift strides, caught her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake.
“Open your eyes, dammit. He was a sorry, no good, conniving son of a bitch. And you are too smart to be this stupid about him.”
Tara reeled back at his vehemence. She’d never seen Rand this furious or out of control. “I—I only know what I saw and how Everett treated me.”
Her reply seemed to anger him further. His jaw muscles bunched and his lips disappeared into a thin line. He released her and backed away. “I have to make a call. Good night.”
He pivoted and left the room. She listened to him ascend the stairs, then his door thumped shut. That answered her question about whether they’d sleep together tonight.
Her thoughts whirred crazily. Her last encounter with Rand five years ago tumbled through her head. The joke’s on dear ol’Dad. He wants you because he thinks I do.
Was Rand right, or was his view colored by his bitterness toward Everett? Surely Everett wouldn’t have used her to score one on Rand? But father and son had been extremely competitive.
On autopilot, Tara returned to the kitchen, piled the Rendezvous reports into a neat stack and slid them into a manila envelope, but making order of the papers did nothing toward organizing her thoughts. She sank into a chair and propped her forehead on her palms.
She hated that everything she’d learned since Rand’s return made her question her judgment. Before Rand had come back into her life she’d known right from wrong. Her mother had died. It was Tara’s fault. She’d stood by and done nothing when a potential life-saving solution had been offered.
But now…now she didn’t know what to think. About her former boss. About her own intelligence.
What had Rand said in the cafeteria that day? Something about Everett never doing anything out of the goodness of his heart and always having a price tag attached. Was it true?
She replayed her last encounter with Everett, searching for clues she’d missed.
Rand will never marry you, my dear. He won’t come back for you or help you through this. Let me help, Tara. Let me make everything all right. I’ll hire the best oncologists money can buy. Your mother will have top-notch medical care, and I promise, together you and I will minimize her suffering as much as possible.
All I ask in return is that you move in to Kincaid Manor. I need a hostess and a partner. I’m lonely, Tara. But I won’t risk all I’ve worked for, all I’ve created in building Kincaid Cruise Lines, by marrying again. We are a good team at work, and we can be on a personal level, as well.
I swear I’ll stand by you throughout this ordeal. Tara, let me take care of you. Let me take care of everything.
His concern had sounded genuine, and his confession of loneliness had been touching. He’d made his proposition sound so simple and attractive. She’d been surprised but also shamelessly tempted. Not because she was attracted to Everett, but because she’d liked and respected him and believed he wouldn’t hurt her already damaged heart even more.
And it wasn’t as if she were a shy virgin looking for a man to replace Rand. In fact, she’d sworn off falling in love again. Everett was only asking for sex and companionship. For her mother’s sake Tara should have been able to deliver both.
While she’d debated Everett had draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a fatherly embrace. She’d needed to lean on someone so badly that she hadn’t pulled away. Overwhelmed and afraid, she’d wanted to let him take care of everything, and she’d finally whispered okay.
Everett had kissed her on the forehead, on the temple and then on the mouth. She’d held it together until he’d touched her, and then she’d shuddered not with passion but in revulsion. And she’d pushed him away.
Rand had left her, but even if she’d never see him again, the idea of becoming intimate with his father when she’d still loved Rand had made her want to throw up.
In a flash of insight, she’d discovered her Achilles’ heel. She’d believed herself willing to do anything to save her mother. But she’d been wrong. She selfishly clung to the only thing of value she had left. Her body. And her mother had paid the price.
If Rand couldn’t forgive her for turning to his father, then he’d never forgive her for standing by and letting her mother die. Rand Kincaid respected strength and he abhorred weakness. Sleeping with her proved he’d go to any lengths for the ones he loved.
And Tara had let her mother down.
Nine
W ould a selfish bitch cut her hair and have it made into a wig for her mother?
It’s just hair. It grows back.But hadn’t Nadia freaked when she’d come out of her coma after the accident and discovered the doctor had shaved her head for brain surgery?
Logical or not, women were possessive of their hair.