But before he left, he wanted to remind her of what they’d had. He strolled toward her. Her expression turned wary. He stopped mere inches away and reached out to hug Rhett. If in the process his hand grazed Carly’s rib cage and he made her breath catch, too bad. He planted a kiss on the kid’s forehead and inhaled his fresh-from-the-bath scent. He caught a whiff of Carly’s fragrance, as well. Hunger and need swelled within him. His throat closed up.
He would not lose them, damn it.
“Good night, kid,” he choked out before pivoting on his heel and stalking from the nursery. When he reached the bottom of the stairs he sucked air as if he’d just climbed a mountain. His chest ached, reminding him of that video game he and Rand used to play back in their teens. One where the Ninja master punched into some poor sap’s chest and ripped out his beating heart. Mitch was that sap.
Winning Carly back seemed impossible. He had to find a way to convince her he’d changed.
But how?
She didn’t care about useless trinkets or money. He couldn’t buy her love. A first for him, because he’d never met a woman he couldn’t buy. Even Trish had liked to be shown affection via a shower of material goods.
Instead of returning to the emptiness of the house, he slipped out the back door, walked down to the waterfront and stared across the bay. The lights of the distant shore and a few passing boats only marginally distracted him, and the waves lapping against the bulkhead did nothing to soothe him.
What could he give Carly that she would never give herself?
An idea shot across his brain. His pulse quickened and his palms tingled. He knew he had a winning plan.
Flipping open his cell phone, he punched Frank Lewis’s auto dial. The P.I. answered on the first ring.
“Lewis Investigations.”
“Frank, Mitch Kincaid. I have another job for you.”
She’d survived. Barely.Carly leaned against the door she’d closed behind Mitch. She hadn’t expected seeing him to hurt so much. But the fact that the old cliché “out of sight, out of mind” hadn’t worked with him should have been a clue that getting over him wouldn’t be easy.
And when he’d said he’d fallen in love with her, she’d wanted to believe him so badly she’d almost broken down.
“Mitt. My Mitt.”
“Yes, munchkin. Your Mitt. Bedtime.” She carried Rhett to bed and tucked him in. After a good-night kiss, she retreated to the nanny suite. Restless, she paced the confines of her room. There was no way she could sleep. Not now. She needed a run—a l-o-n-g one. But she couldn’t leave Rhett alone.
The week had been both physically and mentally exhausting. Without her parents’ help, she wasn’t sure she could have endured the dragging time. She’d worked flat out every day, and in the evenings her parents had asked her to show them each of her favorite parts of Miami. In the process of visiting her old haunts, she’d managed to run into her ex-fiancé. Her first one.
Seeing Sam again had been one of those good news–bad news situations. On the positive side, she hadn’t experienced even a twinge of jealousy when he’d introduced his new girlfriend. She’d honestly been able to wish them well with no ill will.
On the bad side, she was completely over Sam and not just trying to plug a hole his leaving had caused. That meant her feelings for Mitch weren’t a rebound romance.
She blew out a slow breath, crossed to the window and pushed back the curtains. Her eyes caught a movement down at the dock. Mitch. Those broad shoulders and erect carriage were impossible to mistake. Her heart clenched.
Her love for Mitch was the real deal. And that meant it would be around to haunt her for a very long time.
Twelve
A video conference call was a hell of a lousy way to have a family reunion. But given the terms of his father’s will, with him and Rand stuck in Miami unless traveling for work and Nadia in Dallas, Mitch had no choice.
As uptight as he was about what he had to reveal to his siblings, he couldn’t help noticing the stress of being exiled from her home and the job she adored was taking a toll on his sister. “You’ve lost weight, Nadia.”She grimaced into her Web cam. “Most women would take that as a compliment, but I’m not getting that vibe from you. What’s going on, Mitch? You didn’t have a video-equipped computer system delivered to my door at the crack of dawn so you could nag me about my diet.”
He considered and discarded a dozen options for opening the dialogue. “I’m in love with Carly Corbin.”
In his peripheral vision, he caught Rand’s head whipping in his direction, but kept his focus on his sister.
“Isn’t she’s our little brother’s guardian?” Nadia asked on the wide-screen monitor in front of him.
“Half brother,” Rand corrected.
“Yes, Carly is Rhett’s guardian.”
“Love is a good thing. Why do you look like hell instead of happy to be sharing this news?”
“Because I screwed up.” To bring Nadia up to speed he ran through the details, from trying to buy Rhett to his plan to seduce Carly, marry her and divorce her and ended with the investigation and falling in love.
Rand watched and listened without changing expression or saying a word.
Nadia winced a few times. “You’ve dug yourself a deep hole. How are you going to get out of it?”
He’d lain awake last night trying to come up with an alternative strategy. He’d found none and had finally rolled out of bed before dawn, skipped breakfast and come into KCL to walk the premises.
“Carly is convinced I’ll do or say anything to get my hands on my inheritance. The only way I can prove her wrong—” they weren’t going to like this “—is by walking away.”
Rand bolted upright. “Are you out of your mind?”
Nadia nodded. “I see your point.”
“Mitch, you can’t make us lose KCL,” Rand’s carefully level tone all but shouted.
Mitch swiveled his chair toward his brother. “You’re the one who said Dad was forcing us to get down on his level to hold on to the company. I don’t want to be him, Rand. I don’t want to be a cold SOB who uses people and destroys anyone in the way of my quest.”
“He’s right, Rand. After sitting here for almost six weeks with nothing to do but watch dust motes dance through the air, I’m ready to call it quits.”
“What do you mean, nothing to do?” Rand asked. “I shipped you cases of books and videos.”
“And I sent the container garden for your deck and a dozen cookbooks and videos and kitchen gadgets. You have time to learn now,” Mitch added.
“And they’re all great. Thanks. But I can only sit on my butt for so long. You know the will stated I’m not allowed to work, and I’m only allowed out of this building a few hours each day. It’s like being in solitary confinement. I’m going crazy. I don’t have any neighbors to talk to. The floors below me are commercial offices and the other penthouse apartment is empty.”
Mitch detected a trace of hysteria in her voice. “Do you need me to come down there?”
She seemed to gather herself. “Dad is—was—intolerant of weakness, my need to keep busy. My guess is he set me up like this to make me deal with my baggage. I’m dealing. Let’s find a solution for you.”
“There isn’t one.”
“Mitch, love is a once-in-a-lifetime thing. Don’t throw it away for money or for Dad. Or for us.”
His brother shifted in his seat, drawing Mitch’s attention. Rand had never been a squirmy one.
“If I do this, we’ll lose everything.”
“Do it,” Rand barked abruptly. “Do what you have to do. To hell with Dad and his games.”
“I agree. Mitch, this is your life. We’re all smart, educated and experienced. Rand’s already proven there are other companies out there that will hire us. We can find one that suits us without the strings attached or the hoops to jump through.”
He looked from his brother’s stoic, determined face to his sister’s. “You wouldn’t hate my guts for this? You wouldn’t consider me a traitor?”
Rand shook his head. “You, more than any of us, have always taken one for the team. It’s time to take what you need.”
“He’s right, Mitch. It’s your turn. Call me as soon as you’ve done it. The minute you do, I’m out of here.”
His siblings’ support brought that damned recurring lump back to his throat. If it didn’t clear up soon, he’d have to see a doctor. Mitch nodded. “I’ll let you know when it’s over.”
“I can’t wait to meet Carly. She has to be great if she’s snagged you. Good luck,” Nadia said.
“Thanks. But I’ll need more than luck.”
“You can do this,” Carly told herself when she heard Mitch’s key turn in the front door. “You’ve had a broken heart before.”Not like this.
No, she’d never hurt like this. But she had more at stake now. She had to think of Rhett, and for that precious boy’s sake she would suck up her hurt feelings and ignore her broken heart and go back to sharing meals with Mitch.
It wouldn’t be the most painful thing she’d ever done.
But it would come close.
Her heart beat faster with each tread of Mitch’s firm steps across the marble foyer, and then, framed in the living-room archway, he stopped. His eyes found hers and she felt as if she’d caught a twenty-pound medicine ball in the stomach.
“Mitt. My Mitt.” Rhett squirmed in her arms. Carly wheezed in a breath and set him down.
Mitch seemed surprised and pleased to find them waiting for him, but neither emotion could hide the stress tightening his features or erase the tired lines bracketing his eyes and mouth.
“Hey, buddy.” Mitch knelt, dropped the papers he carried on the floor and swept his brother up into a hug. For precious seconds, he tucked his face into Rhett’s baby-fine hair, closed his eyes and held tight.
Carly’s heart turned over. Mitch’s love for his brother showed plainly on his face.
Mission accomplished.
Anything she might suffer from her time with Mitch would be worth it because Rhett now had another adult in his corner. One Kincaid down. Two to go.
“We missed you at breakfast,” she tendered an olive branch.
Mitch lifted his lids and looked directly at Carly. “I went into work early.”
“Pig me up.”
He scooped up his folders and rose with Rhett in his arms and then strode purposely toward her, not halting until he was only scant inches away. Determination firmed his jaw. “We need to talk.”
His body heat and his scent engulfed her. She swallowed and fisted her hands against the need to smooth a hand over the lapel of his charcoal suit that Rhett had bunched and stroke the beard-stubbled line of his jaw.
“Dinner’s waiting. Rhett’s hungry.”
“Eat. Eat. Eat,” the imp chanted.
“Mrs. Duncan.” Mitch barely raised his voice, but the housekeeper instantly came bustling through the door from the kitchen as if she’d been waiting for his signal. “Would you please feed Rhett and put him to bed? Carly and I will eat later. We’ll serve ourselves.”