Enticed (3 page)

A
ccording to whom you asked in the business world, that Fullerton influence benefited more from power than mercy. Clearly that sweet little boy curled next to his mother’s loving bosom had found a way to live beyond it. Alex Fullerton had fallen off the grid, probably squashed by Drew’s larger than life persona. From what little information there was on him since their bitter split, I got the sense both of them preferred it that way.

Alex had only recently b
ecome a factor when Drew divorced his high-society wife. If tabloids were to be believed, the black sheep of the family surprisingly reemerged as her biggest supporter. This, no doubt, put the embattled brothers even more at odds. As I stared at the boys they were, I couldn’t help but wonder where, and why, it had all gone wrong.

“Miss?” Harrison asked from the arched entryway. I had forgotten he was still standing nearby. I had gotten a little lost in the family p
ortrait, which embarrassed me as I approached him with a slight smile.

“Sorry. It’s a lot to take in.”

He didn’t smile, but I got the feeling he wanted to. I followed him through the house to the large kitchen that would have easily housed my entire apartment. The counters were made of polished granite, the floor was Italian marble. There was a stone fireplace against one wall, complete with a brick oven. An older woman with pale etched skin and a halo of silver hair wiped her hands on her apron as she approached. “Miss Dennehy,” she greeted with an outstretched hand. “I’m Cleo, the Fullerton’s cook. We are so pleased you could visit us this week.”

“Thank you,” I offered as I took her hand.

“May I get you something to drink?”

“Iced tea would be wonderful
, if it’s not too much trouble.”

She smiled. “It’s my job, Miss. Nothing is too much trouble.” She offered a plate of
warm chocolate chip cookies, which had filled the large space with a welcoming, homey smell. She pulled a full pitcher from the enormous side-by-side refrigerator, as well as a crystal glass from the cabinet.

Harrison turned to Cleo. “I’m off to retrieve Jonathan,” he said before turning to me. “If you’d like to retire to your quarters to freshen up, I’d advise you do it now. Once Jonathan arrives, you won’t have a free minute to yourself.”

My eyebrow arched. “That bad?”

He tipped his head and said nothing as he gestured toward the entryway. I followed him upstairs to the second floor. We walked down a long hallway toward the last door, which opened up to a full bedroom suite. It, like the living room, had burnished wood on the barreled ceiling, and a smaller, but equally impressive crystal chandelier hanging from the center of the room. Priceless crystal figurines dotted the glass bookshelves built into the tiled walls,
which featured old, leather-bound classic novels. Just like on the plane, fresh roses filled the room. They were a pale peach color and fit the décor perfectly. The four poster queen bed was covered in peach silk and white eyelet and lace, with wispy sheer fabric draped from the canopy.

Harrison opened the walk-in closet, which was big enough to qualify as another room entirely. There my belongings had been unpacked and hung for me
, which made me wonder exactly how long I had been staring at the Fullerton family portrait. I felt as though I should tip him for his speedy efficiency. This was certainly finer than any hotel in which I had ever stayed. “Thank you, Harrison,” I said, feeling completely inadequate that I couldn’t compensate him for his services.

He nodded his acknowledgment. “We should return in an hour. I know Master Jonathan will want to meet you straight away.”

“I want to meet him,” I said. “I’ll be ready.”

A smile tugged the corner of his lip. “Yes, miss,” was all he said, but I could definitely hear the humor laced in his tone.

This didn’t bode well.

The guest room had a private bath, which was filled with the same Italian marble as the rest of the
house. The sunken tub doubled also as a spa bath, and several peach-colored (and scented) candles surrounded the edge. A basket full of cosmetics had been provided for my convenience, and I easily recognized the brands within it. These were brands I had never personally purchased myself, thanks to my strict budget. I had to contain a squeal as I opened one bottle and inhaled deep the light fragrance of verbena.

I started running water for an immediate bubble bath, kicking away my sensible shoes and shrugging out of the pantsuit I wore to travel. I lit the candles and slid into the bubbly, fragrant water with a contented sigh.

Outside the slightly opened window I could hear birds singing on the tops of the tall trees I could see from where I lounged in the tub. The bath itself was delicious and indulgent. Had I remembered to bring a book with me, I’d have stayed in until my skin wrinkled right off my bones.

I had to remind myself that I was here to work. As glorious and luxurious as the surroundings were, I was still just the hired help.

Actually, I wasn’t even hired yet. Drew Fullerton could meet me and decide I was all wrong for the job and for his son, which… honestly… was what I was expecting. I hadn’t gone to an Ivy League school, and even then I hadn’t earned more than a Bachelor’s degree. Plus I was completely inexperienced with the kind of homeschooling he desired for his son. All I really added up to be was some small-town schoolmarm with sensible shoes and an available schedule.

I really didn’t see how someone who could live in a place like this, surrounded by the finest things money could buy, would find that at all adequate.

But he was the one who had approached me, so I had to assume he knew all this going into it. All I could do was the best I knew to do. With a sigh, I dragged myself out of the tub and dried off so I could be prepared to meet Jonathan.

I
stood in my towel, inspecting what few articles of clothing I had brought from Texas, debating on what I should wear, when the phone rang. I glanced around, thinking that someone else would answer, but I was all alone. I walked over to the desk on the far wall overlooking the backyard. Next to the phone was a plate of cookies and my iced tea. I had to smile. If those cookies tasted as good as they smelled I sensed the start of a beautiful friendship.

As I went to snag a cookie from the plate,
I noticed from the phone that it was a multi-line system, which meant whoever was calling had been trying to reach my room specifically. On the sixth ring, I finally answered. “This is Rachel Dennehy.”

“Miss Dennehy,” a warm male voice murmured. “This is
Drew Fullerton.”

Maybe it was the rich timbre of his voice, or maybe it was because he was one of the most powerful people on the planet, but hearing this
man for the first time sent a jolt from my head all the way to my toes. Suddenly I became very aware that I was standing in the middle of his home, naked except for an over-sized cotton towel. I was unprepared for the unexpected intimacy. I clutched it tighter to my chest before I could answer.

“Mr. Fullerton,”
I greeted, hoping he couldn’t hear my teeth chatter.

“I trust that you are settling in,” he drawled easily. “I hope the accommodations are acceptable.”

I nearly snorted as I suppressed a giggle. Suitable, indeed. I felt like a queen. “Your home is lovely,” I managed. “I have to remind myself I’m here to work.”

My tummy tight
ened when I heard him chuckle. “If you love what you do, each day should be an adventure, rather than a chore.”

I nodded as I glanced around the plush room. “That is how I look at teaching in general. I’ve just never done it surrounded by Italian marble and crystal chandeliers
before.”

“Then you’ve been doing it wrong,” he suggested. Though I couldn’t see him, I heard the smirk in his voice. “I was just calling to let you know that I’ve been called out of town on business. I won’t return until Monday.”

My heart fell, though I didn’t know why.

“But I want you to feel completely welcome in our home. The staff has been instructed to meet your every need, and I know Jonathan will keep you busy in my absence.” Again, I heard the warning in his sardonic tone.

“You’re the second person to warn me what I’m in for,” I said with a slight grin of my own. “Should I be scared?”

Drew
laughed, which again felt like a rush of warm water over my chilled, near-naked body. “You teach teenagers within the public school system, I think you’re better prepared than most. But word to the wise, a bored Jonathan is a more challenging Jonathan.”

“Noted,” I said. “You have suits of armor in your
grand fortress, right?”

Again, he laughed, which pleased me greatly. From all the photos, he looked stern and humorless. I was reluctant to meet him because I assumed he was as stuffy as his position of power and influence hinted that he would be. It was nice to hear that he was a three-dimensional human being capabl
e of more than just one emotion, especially the dour one I was used to seeing on the cover of magazines.

“If you work out the way that I expect that you will, Miss Dennehy, you won’t need it. I’ll see you Monday,” he said as he brought the call to an end.

I stood there holding the receiver in my hand for long moments after the call disconnected. I didn’t know what I expected when I sent that email in desperation, accepting this incredible offer more out of spite than anything. But with each passing moment, it was all so much more than I could have dreamed. So far there was nothing to send me screaming back to Texas.

The only variable left was Jonathan, really, and I had never met a child I didn’t like. My love for children was what drove my desire to t
each, despite the notoriously low pay and the endless, thankless work. I had managed to turn even the most hopeless discipline cases around within a school year.

Now I had one weekend with one child on which to focus my attention. My mouth curved into a confident smile as
I placed the phone handset back in its place before going to dress.

Commotion at my bedroom door caught my attention as I
finished dressing, adding a light green peachskin tunic to my sturdy pair of khaki shorts. I easily tied my long brown hair into a ponytail, slipped into some casual sneakers and walked to the door. Outside were two distinct voices. One was the unmistakable accent of Harrison. The other was younger, higher-pitched and filled with entitlement. This, I assumed, was my new student, Jonathan Fullerton.

“
Dad said I could meet her as soon as I got home,” the younger voice insisted.

“She’s traveled very far today, Master Jonathan,” Harrison responded gently. “Let the poor woman rest.”

I suppressed a smile as I opened the door.

Master Jonathan was all of four feet tall, with the same
dark hair and striking blue eyes of his father. His face, much like his dad, featured the same classic high cheekbones and full lips. It was like someone took Drew Fullerton and stuck him in a dryer.

Jonathan wore a white martial arts uniform with an orange belt cinched aroun
d his middle, and I watched him stand a little taller as he gave me the same once-over inspection I was giving him. After years of Texas home cooking, I carried a little extra weight around my hips and thighs, and especially in my bra. My figure settled somewhere around size-12 shortly after college, and I saw no reason to starve myself into a smaller size. I had always been healthy and active, so I just watched my fat intake and moderated sugar, figuring the rest was all cosmetic.

I liv
ed to impress no one, even the nine-year-old son who glanced me over like a prize-winning pig at the county fair. My skin was clear, my teeth were brushed and my clothes and body were clean. More importantly I was a damn good teacher and I knew it, so I squared my own shoulders as I stared down at my potential student. I offered a hand. “My name is Rachel Dennehy. It’s so nice to finally meet you, Jonathan.”

He studied my hand for a moment before he finally placed his small hand in mine. His grip, however, was surprisingly strong. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Dennehy,” he greeted formally.

He was such a little man that it nearly broke my heart. No wonder he was a discipline case. No one would allow him to be a child.

No one, I decided, until now.

“I noticed you had a pool out back,” I commented casually. “Cleo gave me some cookies and tea. I thought I’d have my snack poolside. Would you like to join me?”

“That would be
acceptable,” he said, giving me the sense that he really wanted to impress me with his Lord of the Manor routine. He turned to Harrison. “Please bring the cookies and tea out to the pool, Harrison.”

I shook my head. “No need. I can carry them.”

Jonathan’s blue eyes widened, as if he were confused by my refusal. He was speechless as he watched me walk into my room toward my desk, grab the plate and the glass, and return to where they stood in the hall.

Harrison’s eyes
darted between Jonathan and me, as if he were waiting for the tiny terror to come unglued at any moment. I, on the other hand, was completely composed as I gestured behind us toward the stairs. “After you.”

I followed the boy down the stairs and through the kitchen toward the French doors leading outside. Sculpted topiaries stood on either side of the reflecting pool, which connected in a channel toward the hot tub and finally the Olympic-sized pool behind the iron gates. Chaise lounges were scattered in pairs on the brilliant green grass surrounding the concrete pool, so we headed
through the solarium to a couple at the far end. A breezeway covered in fragrant wisteria separated two smaller houses in the same style of the main house, quite possibly servant quarters for either Harrison or Cleo. Jonathan affirmed my assessment with a curt nod.

“Father likes to keep the house staff close,” he informed me as he snagged a cookie from the plate. “I see them more than I see my own family,” he stated matter-of-factly, which further tugged at my gut. What a lonely little boy.

“I know that can be tough,” I said with such a sincere tone that he turned his head toward me.

“Do you have family?” he wanted to know.

I shook my head sadly. “Most had passed by the time I graduated college. And there’s no one else,” I concluded as I glanced away.

Jonathan nodded
, as if the answer didn’t surprise him. “Father probably wouldn’t hire you if you did,” he said as he glanced at the pool.

It seemed like such an odd thing to say that I couldn’t help but probe. “Why is that?”

Jonathan shrugged. “He just doesn’t,” he said, as if that were an answer in and of itself. Off my look he added, “He is very selective in who has access to the family. Both Cleo and Harrison were older when they came to work for us, so they could dedicate themselves to the family full-time. Father puts heavy emphasis on dedication and loyalty. Having commitments on the outside would interfere with that.”

I chuckled. “You make it sound like a prison.”

His eyes met mine. “It is.”

Before I could pounce all over his raw comment, he forged ahead with his own questionnaire. “Where do you live?”

“I’m from Texas,” I answered.

“Would you miss it if you moved here?”

I thought about that for a moment. “I’ve never lived anywhere else, so I wouldn’t know for sure until I did. But even if I missed it, I would keep my commitment to the job, if that is what you’re worried about.”

His chin tipped defiantly. “I’m
not. I’m used to people leaving.”

God, this kid was killing me. He was way too young to be this heartbroken and this cynical.
“I understand that.”

He was skeptical as he met my gaze. “You do?”

I nodded. “Yeah,” I said softly.

He let the comment pass to continue his interrogation.
“Do you teach in a school?”

I nodded. “Middle school. Seventh grade. Your dad tells me that you’re quite advanced for your age.”

It was his turn to nod. “Testing at sixth grade levels,” he said with the same proud tilt of his chin. “They say that’s why I don’t do well in class. I’m not challenged enough.”

“
Why do you think you don’t do well?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I get bored.”

I put my glass on the table beside the lounging chair. “Okay, rule number one: you never get to say you are bored. Bored is for the ignorant or the dull. I don’t know you very well, but I’m pretty sure that you are neither of those things. If you are intelligent and talented, there’s absolutely no way to get bored. There are always new thoughts to think, and new ideas to spark into plans. We are a species driven by innovation and creativity. The world is full of information and any number of things to learn and discover at any given time, so if you are bored, it’s your choice. As such, you’re not allowed to complain.”

He looked absolutely taken aback that I could speak to him so forcefully upon our first real meeting.

“Do you read?” I pressed on. He nodded, but wisely opted to say nothing. “I’ll give you a reading list,” I said. “Whenever you think that you’re bored, take out a book and lose yourself in a story. We can also approach the lesson plans a little more liberally, if there’s one subject that stimulates you more than the other. Once you discover what you love about learning, you can apply it to any subject. It’s all about perspective.”

“Well, well, well,” I heard a male voice drawl from just beyond the fence. I turned to see what might have been
Drew Fullerton’s scruffier, more uncouth twin. He was just as tall as Drew, with the same dark hair and light eyes and sculpted features. This man, however, sported long hair, a close beard and wore a flannel work shirt, faded jeans and dusty, worn cowboy boots.

“Uncle Alex!”
Jonathan exclaimed gleefully as he shot up off of the chaise lounge. He ran to the gate and around the yard until Alex Fullerton hoisted him up in one powerful arm.

“How you doin,’ kiddo?” Alex asked with a wide smile.
He tugged at the orange belt. “You’re not a black belt yet? What’s wrong with you?”

Jonathan laughed at Alex’s teasing tone. “It takes time, Uncle Alex.”

“For everyone else,” Alex dismissed. “But for Jonathan Fullerton? I think not. You are made of too much awesome.”

“Lemme show you some new moves!” Jonathan offered as he hopped down.

“Now, buddy,” Alex chastised gently. “Don’t forget your manners. Why don’t you introduce me to your new friend?”

Jonathan walked closer to the fence where I sat. “This is Rachel Dennehy. She’s my new teacher.”

I stood and approached the iron fence. “We’re still working on that part,” I corrected. “I’m in the interview process, you could say.”

Alex’s hands landed on either of Jonathan’s shoulders. “Hope Master Jonathan here went easy on you,” he offered with an easy smile that never quite made it up to those steely eyes, which gave me the same critical once-over his nephew
had.

“Hey, are those Cleo’s homemade chocolate chip cookies?” he asked. Jonathan nodded, so Alex patted him on the back. “Feel like fetching your old uncle a plate?” Another vigorous nod before Jonathan raced off into the house to accommodate a man he clearly idolized.

Knowing what little I knew of their family history, I felt it a tad ironic.

Alex leaned over the fence. “So my brother finally did it,” he commented as his eyes swept o
ver me.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Brought in a ringer,” he clarified. “What better weapon to prevent his ex-wife from getting full custody than put a matronly female influence right in the house?”

Matronly? Was that a nice way of calling me fat? I stood straighter.
“I’m just here to teach,” I informed him stiffly.

“Good,” he said as he glanced down at me with narrowed eyes. “Because if you’re looking to cash in, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

My eyebrow arched. “Excuse me?”

“It’s not like we haven
’t seen this before,” he offered offhand. “Single billionaire, big, empty Beverly Hills mansion and a lonely kid who desperately needs a mom. Easy pickings for a smart gold-digger.” My fur started to rise but he went on, undaunted. “Hell, we even saw it when he was a married billionaire. One of the main reasons he’s single now.” He looked me over. “I will give him credit, though. He’s definitely casting against type this time around. Natural hair color, no breast augmentation and no designer clothes. You really do look like a school teacher.”

My eyes narrowed. “That’s because that is what I am. I don’t appreciate any insinuation otherwise.”

He held up a hand. “No offense intended,” he said. “And if I misjudged you, I apologize. I’m more than willing to be wrong.”

“Really?” I challenged as I crossed my arms in front of my chest.

“Yeah,” he said as he glanced toward Jonathan, who approached with a plate full of cookies. “For his sake. You really want to do him a favor? Go back home. Let his mother have a fighting chance to raise him way the hell away from this poisonous family.”

I was speechless as I watched Alex saunter easily toward Jonath
an, who had become a little boy again with the presence of his uncle. They interacted with ease, with Jonathan performing several of his moves for Alex under the flawless blue sky. Their relationship was easy and playful. There wasn’t a trace of the bitter skeptic that had faced me at the fence, the one who essentially called me a gold-digging whore out to secure my place as the future “ex” Mrs. Fullerton.

I knew from that moment
on that if I decided to take this job, Alex Fullerton would prove an annoying thorn in my side.

It was enough to give me pause, and wonder – again – what the hell I had gotten myself into.