Heartstrings and Diamond Rings (33 page)
Read Heartstrings and Diamond Rings Online
Authors: Jane Graves
Anything to keep him from being bored out of his mind.
But if he showed up at these things, Sybersense held on to its reputation as a philanthropic leader in the community, and he held on to his reputation as a wealthy, eccentric bachelor. Then, at the end of the evening, he invariably had several incredibly gorgeous women to pick from to entertain himself with later. As for the events themselves, he got his laughs by watching the looks on the faces of the old biddies as they tried to ignore whatever fashion faux pas he’d decided to perpetrate for the evening. They were all about propriety—almost all about it, anyway. In this crowd, money trumped taste, but just barely.
“Mr. Bridges! Good evening!”
He turned to see one of those old biddies waddling toward him. Genevieve Caldwell was a chunky senior citizen with silver hair, a brassy voice, and a gold-plated portfolio of oil fields all over the world.
“I’m just so delighted you could make it here this—”
He knew the exact moment she caught sight of his slack tie and scuffed Nikes. Her voice faltered, and for a split second, he saw it. That look of disapproval. That expression that said,
You’re not one of us.
That vibe of superiority that the socially blessed radiated to those less fortunate. But, as always, he consoled himself with the fact that for all her riches, he could buy and sell her ten times over.
In spite of her momentary gaffe, she recovered like a pro, pasting on a smile and holding out her hand.
“—this evening,” she finished.
Jeremy took her hand and kissed it, then flashed her a dazzling smile. “Mrs. Caldwell. What a joy it is to see you again.”
The old lady practically quaked with delight, her disapproval momentarily vanishing in a wave of pure ecstasy.
Jeremy nodded toward Bernie. “Mrs. Caldwell, I’d like you to meet Bernadette. She’s a family friend visiting from Arkansas.
Rural
Arkansas. It was a slow time at the chicken farm, so she put on her best dress, hopped a Greyhound, and here she is.”
At the same time he got a furtive eye roll from Bernie, Mrs. Caldwell’s nose crinkled as if she’d smelled something rotten. Hearing
rural, chicken farm,
and
Greyhound
all in one sentence made her disgust meter shoot through the roof.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Mrs. Caldwell said, even though it clearly wasn’t a pleasure for her in the least. Then she tilted her head questioningly. “But I’m certain I’ve met you before.” Her eyes narrowed. “Do you know you look remarkably like Mr. Bridges’s astrologer?”
“My astrologer?” Jeremy said.
“Yes. Three months ago at the Sunshine Gala for Solar Energy, you had your astrologer with you. You said she told you that your moon in Pisces simply demanded you give an extra thousand dollars.” She looked back at Bernie. “There
is
a resemblance.”
“Ah, that’s because she
is
my astrologer,” Jeremy said. “Did I not mention the connection before?”
“Why, no, I don’t believe you did.” Mrs. Caldwell turned to Bernie. “Do you do readings for others?” She smiled. “I can only hope for more moons in Pisces tonight.”
“It’s more of a hobby of hers,” Jeremy said. “She wouldn’t want the responsibility of suggesting another person’s path in life.”
“But you’ll be happy to know,” Bernie said, “that Jeremy’s moon is in Gemini today. The Twins. Which means he’s going to give twice as much money as he did at the Sunshine Gala.”
“That’s wonderful!” Mrs. Caldwell said, beaming. “You’re such a generous man, Mr. Bridges. With patronage such as yours, the polar bears will live on for generations to come.” She glanced over Jeremy’s shoulder. “Please excuse me. I have other guests to greet. I hope you and your friend have a lovely time tonight!”
Mrs. Caldwell moved toward her next victim, and Jeremy turned to Bernie. “You just set me up for twelve grand,” he muttered. “Thanks a bunch.”
“Consider it penance. Now maybe you won’t go to hell for lying.”
“That might cover
this
lie. But what about all the others?”
“You have no respect at all for these people, do you?”
“Their games aren’t my games.”
“So you make up games of your own.”
“Exactly.”
“Just don’t make me your financial planner again. I don’t know a damned thing about the stock market.”
With that, she turned and fanned her gaze over the crowd with the same intensity she always did, never relaxing for a moment, never cracking a smile. Bernie was nothing if not predictable. She wore the same plain black dress she always did whenever she shadowed him at events like these, one that hit her legs midcalf. It was so shapeless that it was impossible to get a mental picture of what her body beneath it looked like. Dark hair that grazed her shoulders in no particular style. Not a speck of makeup. Flat, sensible shoes. No stockings, of course. He couldn’t imagine Bernie wiggling into a pair of pantyhose. Jewelry? Perish the thought. In this room full of peacocks, she looked like a plain brown starling, so bland she faded right into the wall and so unmemorable that he was surprised Mrs. Caldwell had recognized her at all.
Sometimes he cocked his head and narrowed his eyes and looked at Bernie when she wasn’t aware he was doing it, just to see if there was an actual woman in there somewhere. Occasionally he got a glimpse of one, but it was like seeing something fleeting on the periphery of his vision that was there one second and gone the next.
He wondered what she did with all the money she made working for him, because it sure didn’t go toward nice clothes or a decent apartment. She wore discount-store clothes and lived in a mediocre complex in east Plano full of questionable people. Not that it wasn’t safe for Bernie. Somebody would have to have a death wish to mess with her. Aside from paying somebody to hack into her bank account or personal e-mail, Jeremy didn’t have any way of finding out much more, and hell would freeze over before she offered any personal information of her own accord.
Her professional history, though, was a different story. He might show the world a cavalier attitude, but he never hired anyone without vetting that person from top to bottom. As bodyguards went, Bernie was the best of the best. Ex-military, she was a top-notch marksman and a martial arts expert. She had observational skills out the wazoo. And Jeremy had no doubt she could be lethal if the situation ever warranted it.
Still, she
was
a woman, and every once in a while he imagined what would happen if he sent her for a day at one of those stupidly expensive spas, then took her to Neiman’s and sprang for the works. Just for fun. Just to see the result. Of course, if he ever actually suggested such a thing, he’d probably end up as one more notch on her Q-Tip.
“I’m heading for the bar,” Jeremy said. “Can I interest you in a glass of outrageously expensive champagne? I have to recoup my twelve thousand somehow.”
“You know I don’t drink on the job.”
“Do you drink
ever
? Or smoke, or park illegally, or spit gum on the sidewalk? What do you do for fun, anyway?”
“I am having fun,” she deadpanned. “Can’t you tell?”
“Lighten up, Bernie. This is friendly territory. Not much chance of a kidnapping attempt around here.”
Bernie’s laserlike eyes zeroed in on something across the room. “I’m not so sure about that.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Do you know that woman?” Bernie asked. “The one by the buffet table in the silver sequined skirt up to her ass?”
Jeremy turned to look at the woman in question, who turned out to be the same women he’d seen as he was coming into the hotel. She was indeed showing a few more inches of thigh than the average woman here tonight. Bernie didn’t seem to approve, but—funny thing—he didn’t object in the least.
Did he know her? No. Was he going to get to know her? Absolutely. Before this evening was out, he intended to get to know her very,
very
well.
“Never seen her before tonight,” he said.
“I have. A couple of times in the past few days. She may be following you. She was outside the gates to your house two days ago, and on the street in front of Rodolpho’s yesterday when you were having lunch with Phil Brandenburg. And she’s barely taken her eyes off you tonight.”
Jeremy smiled. “Ah, women… they just can’t seem to control themselves around me, can they?”
“There
is
a chance she’s just a groupie. She probably saw the article they did on you in
Dallas After Dark
and she’s hoping to snag a handsome millionaire.”
“So you think I’m handsome, do you?”
“I’m just quoting the article.”
“Well, if it’s in print, it must be true.”
“Right.
Dallas After Dark.
Journalism at its finest.” Bernie continued to eye the girl, then shook her head grimly. “There’s something fishy about her. She doesn’t belong here. She’s dressed too slutty. And she’s standing alone.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Jeremy said. “Maybe I should check her out. Get closer to her. Infiltrate her evil plot.”
“You’re not taking this seriously.”
“Now, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m very,
very
serious about taking her home with me.” He glanced back at the woman. “And look at that. I don’t even have to go on the hunt. The prey is coming to me.”
Where authors give you the inside scoop!
Dear Reader,
The first time I ever saw an Adirondack lake I was twenty-three years old and madly in love. My boyfriend’s grandparents had built their “camp” in the 1940s, and he’d often told me that it was his favorite place in the world. (“Camp” is Adirondack lingo for a house on a lake. If it’s really big, like the Vanderbilts’ summer home on Raquette Lake, people sometimes throw the word “great” in front of it.)
I can still remember my first glimpse of the blue lake, the sandy beach, the wooden docks jutting into it, the colorful sails of the boats that floated by. It was love at first sight. My mind was blown by the beauty all around me.
Of course, since I’m a writer, my brain immediately began spinning off into storyland. What if two kids grew up together in this small lake town and were high-school sweethearts? What if one of them left the other behind for bright lights/big city? And what would their reunion look like ten years later?
Fast-forward fifteen years from that first sight of an Adirondack lake, and I couldn’t be more thrilled to introduce my Emerald Lake series to you! After thinking she had left the small town—and the girl she had once been—behind forever, Andi Powell must return to help run Lake Yarns, her family’s knitting store on Main Street. Of course everyone in town gets involved in a love story that she’s convinced herself is better left forgotten. But with the help of the Monday night knitting group, Nate’s sister, Andi’s mother and grandmother, and an old circus carousel in the middle of the town green, Andi just might find the love she’s always deserved in the arms of the one man who has waited his entire life for her.
I hope you fall as much in love with the beauty and people of Emerald Lake as I did.
Happy reading,
P.S. That boyfriend is now my husband (Guess where we honeymooned? Yes, the lake!), and four years ago we bit the bullet and became the proud owners of our very own Adirondack camp. Now, just in case you’re tempted to throw the word “great” around, you should know that our log cabin is a hundred years old…and pretty much original. Except for the plumbing. Thankfully, we have that!
Dear Reader,
In HEARTSTRINGS AND DIAMOND RINGS (on sale now), Alison Carter has been stuck in the dating world for years, and she’s getting a little disillusioned. In personal ads, she’s discovered that “athletic” means the guy has a highly developed right bicep from opening and closing the refrigerator door; and that a man is “tall, dark, and handsome” only in a room full of ugly albino dwarves. But what about those other descriptions in personal ads? What do they
really
mean?
“Aspiring actor”: Uses Aussie accent to pick up chicks
“Educated”: Watches
Jeopardy!
“Emotionally sound”: Or so his latest psychiatrist says
“Enjoys fine dining”: Goes inside instead of using the drive-through
“Friendship first”: As long as “friendship” includes sex
“Good listener”: Has nothing intelligent to say
“Likes to cuddle”: Mommy issues
“Looking for soulmate”: Or just someone to have sex with
“Loyal”: Stalker
“Old fashioned”: Wants you barefoot and pregnant
“Passionate”: About beer, football, and Hooters waitresses
“Romantic”: Isn’t nearly as ugly by candlelight
“Spiritual”: Drives by a church on his way to happy hour
“Stable”: Heavily medicated
“Young at heart”: And one foot in the grave
“Witty”: Quotes dialogue from
Animal House
Alison finally decides enough is enough. She’s going to hire a matchmaker, who will find out the truth about a man
before
she goes out with him. What she doesn’t expect to find is a matchmaking
man—
one who really
is
tall, dark, and handsome! And suddenly Mr. Right just might be right under her nose…
I hope you’ll enjoy HEARTSTRINGS AND DIAMOND RINGS!
Happy reading!
Dear Reader,
I love to write the love story of two people who have known each other a long time. I love it even more when they’re now enemies. First of all, I don’t have to spend time introducing them to each other. They already have a history and common experiences. They speak in a kind of shorthand that sets them apart from the people around them. Emotions are already more complex. And then I get to mix in the added spice that comes from two people who spit and claw each time they see each other. Well, if you’ve read the first two books in my Drake’s Rakes series, you know that Lady Kate Seaton and Major Sir Harry Lidge are definitely spitting and clawing. In ALWAYS A TEMPTRESS, we finally find out why. And we get to see if they will ever resolve their differences and finally admit that they still passionately love each other.
Happy reading!
Dear Reader,
St. Andrews University, alma mater of Prince William and Princess Kate, was Scotland’s first university, and it figures significantly in HIGHLAND HERO, the second book in my Scottish Knights trilogy, as well as in its predecessor, HIGHLAND MASTER (Forever, February 2011). The heroes of all three books in the trilogy met as students of Walter Traill, Bishop of St. Andrews, in the late fourteenth century. All three are skilled warriors and knights of the realm.
Sir Ivor Mackintosh of HIGHLAND HERO—besides being handsome, daring, and a man of legendary temper—is Scotland’s finest archer, just as Fin Cameron of HIGHLAND MASTER is one of the country’s finest swordsmen. Both men are also survivors of the Great Clan Battle of Perth, in which the Mackintoshes of Clan Chattan fought champions of Clan Cameron. In other words, these two heroes fought on opposing sides of that great trial by combat.
Nevertheless, thanks to Bishop Traill, they are closer than most brothers.
Because Traill’s students came from noble families all over Scotland, any number of whom might be feuding or actively engaged in clan warfare, the peace-loving Traill insisted that his students keep their identities secret and use simple names within the St. Andrews community. They were on their honor to not probe into each other’s antecedents, so they knew little if anything about their friends’ backgrounds while studying academics and knightly skills together. Despite that constraint, Traill also taught them the value of trust and close friendships.
The St. Andrews Brotherhood in my Scottish Knights series is fictional but plausible, in that the historic Bishop Traill strongly supported King Robert III and Queen Annabella Drummond while the King’s younger brother, the Duke of Albany, was actively trying to seize control of the country. Traill also provided protection at St. Andrews for the King’s younger son, James (later James I of Scotland), conveyed him there in secrecy, and wielded sufficient power to curb Albany when necessary.
We don’t know how Traill and the King arranged for the prince, age seven in 1402, to travel across Scotland from the west coast to St. Andrews Castle. But that sort of mystery stimulates any author’s gray cells.
So, in HIGHLAND HERO, when the villainous Albany makes clear his determination to rule Scotland no matter what, Traill sends for Sir Ivor to transport young Jamie to St. Andrews. Sir Ivor’s able if sometimes trying assistant in this endeavor is the Queen’s niece, Lady Marsaili Drummond-Cargill, who has reasons of her own to elude Albany’s clutches but does not approve of temperamental men or men who assume she will do their bidding without at least
some
discussion.
Traill’s successor, Bishop Henry Wardlaw (also in HIGHLAND HERO), founded William’s and Kate’s university in 1410, expanding on Traill’s long tradition of education, believing as Traill had that education was one of the Church’s primary duties. Besides being Scotland’s first university, St. Andrews was also the first university in Scotland to admit women (1892)—and it admitted them on exactly the same terms as men. Lady Marsaili would have approved of that!
Suas Alba!
