Playing the Playboy (15 page)

It had been ages since she’d even had a family.

“Oh. That was a long time ago, and I can’t remember thousands of details from old cases off the top of my head.” Harrison turned to Laurel suddenly, as if he realized he was being rude. “I’m sorry I can’t remember your late husband.”

“Oh, no, that’s fine. I wouldn’t expect you to.”

Harrison turned back to Andrew. “Do you mind if we talk about it tomorrow? It’s been a long day, and we haven’t even invited Ms. Grayson into the house.”

Laurel was technically in the house but still held her bag and purse, so she understood what he meant. “It’s Laurel.”

From an objective standpoint, Harrison was just as handsome as Andrew. They were about the same size and had the same dark hair, although Harrison had chocolate brown eyes instead of green. But Harrison appeared more serious, more tightly wound, without the warmth that Andrew exuded from every pore. The only time Harrison’s eyes softened was when he looked at Marietta, whom he obviously adored.

“Please come on in,” Marietta said, giving Harrison a push to start them moving out of the entryway. “You both are welcome to stay as long as you want.”

“Within reason,” added Harrison, with a sidelong look at his brother. “I’m going to haul this stuff in. It’s very nice to meet you, Laurel. Please make yourself at home.”

Andrew took Laurel’s bag from her, and they both followed Marietta down a hall leading to the east wing of the large villa. She opened a door and showed them a large, bright room with a king-size bed made up meticulously in white bedding. “You can stay in here. Will this be all right?”

Laurel looked at the room. Then looked over at Andrew. She was perfectly happy to share a room with him, but she didn’t know if it would make him uncomfortable—like they’d already been coupled off.

“Oh,” Marietta said, blushing and looking flustered as she read their expressions. “I’d just assumed… I thought you two were together. I’m so sorry. Of course, we have another guestroom if—”

“No, no,” Laurel broke in, smiling at Marietta. “This will be perfect.” She glanced back at Andrew questioningly. “Won’t it?”

“It’s great,” Andrew agreed. “Thanks, Marietta.”

Marietta looked relieved, although she was still a little flushed. She turned on the light to the adjoining bathroom and then said she’d let them get settled.

Laurel wondered what kind of lifestyle and history the other woman had experienced to sustain such fresh, innocent candor. Laurel couldn’t imagine ever blushing like Marietta over an innocuous slip. 

Laurel kind of liked her, though. Marietta was refreshing—like a crisp, spring morning. Laurel, with her messy history and her manipulative lies to a man who’d only been good to her, was more like the dark of night.

The thought depressed her. She sat down on the side of the bed and tried to will herself back into telling Andrew the truth.

He dropped the bags on the floor with a sigh. Then seemed to notice her preoccupation. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head wordlessly. When he sat down beside her and wrapped an arm around her, she leaned against him.

“Harrison is a good guy,” he said. “Don’t be worried.”

She
was
worried, but not about that.

She opened her mouth to speak but then noticed how tired Andrew looked. Maybe he was more stressed about things than she’d realized, and she’d been too caught up in her own brooding to notice it.

The Talk could wait until later tonight.

***

Several hours later, Andrew was lying in bed as Laurel came out of the bathroom. She’d just taken a shower and wore a white camisole and pale blue pajama pants. Her hair was loose, hanging in a smooth fall down her back. She looked almost shy as she got under the covers with him.

She was the sexiest thing Andrew had ever seen.

He’d taken a shower earlier and was trying to relax. They’d had a light dinner with Harrison and Marietta and had talked about casual, friendly things like the camping trip before they’d all gone to bed. Now his mind whirled with possibilities—ideas about what would happen with the inn and what it would take for his uncle to accept Laurel’s ownership.

He also kept thinking of what might happen afterwards, what he could do to keep Laurel from slipping out of his life completely.

They hadn’t known each other very long. The ideas that occurred to him immediately—possible ways to keep Laurel in his life—would probably be premature.

But that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. Harrison and Marietta had known each other for only a month when they got together for real, and now he was pretty sure that relationship was permanent.

Andrew wasn’t going to let Laurel go, now that he’d found her.

When she turned out the light, he pulled her over to his side, wrapping his arm around her. She curled against him, smelling clean and fresh, like the lavender soap in the shower.

“I wonder how Theo’s doing,” he said, stroking Laurel’s soft hair.

“He’s fine. I called Agatha, and she said he wasn’t quite so droopy. He still can’t really walk on the leg, but he’s fine.”

“Good.”

He loved those dogs—all three of them. He had to make sure they didn’t lose their home and that Laurel didn’t lose hers. That Andrew didn’t lose all of them.

He kept imagining a few weeks from now, if the letter was verified and the Damons removed their claim on the inn. Everyone would expect him to go home, and Laurel would still be in Santorini.

They could have a long-distance relationship, but it would be complicated and frustrating. Would Laurel even want it?

But would she think he was some creepy-stalker-type if he upped and moved halfway across Europe after knowing her for two weeks?

“What are you stressing about?” Laurel asked into the silence.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re tense and fidgety, and it’s not like you. What are you stressing about?”

“Nothing.” He was a little embarrassed she could read him so well, even in the dark, but there was also something comforting about being known and understood so well. He’d never experienced that before. “Just can’t relax.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t sure what the resonance in her voice meant until she’d moved on top of him. She kissed him, her weight soft and lithe against him.

He returned the kiss, his muscles starting to tighten but for a different reason now.

She broke the kiss but didn’t pull away. Instead, she kissed a line along his jaw, her lips triggering sensations that pulsed all the way down to his groin. He released a hoarse sound of pleasure when he felt her lips on his chest, teasing him, fondling him. Then—slowly, very slowly—they descended lower to his stomach.

He was rock hard by the time he felt her hand slip beneath his waistband and then curl around his erection. “Laurel.” He shifted his hips as she caressed him with strokes that felt just too, too good. “Fuck, Laurel.”

Then, before he realized what she was doing, she’d lowered her head even more. He gasped sharply when he felt her tongue run up and down the length of him.

He groaned helplessly when she took him in her mouth.

It felt so good, so unexpectedly, that he didn’t have much control. He hadn’t had time to prepare or summon his stamina. He curled one hand around the back of her head as she sucked him rhythmically. And he kept groaning in uninhibited pleasure as she worked him up toward climax.

Soon, he had to grab the headboard with his free hand to keep from thrusting up too hard into her mouth.

“Laurel,” he rasped, on the edge of aching need and release, “I’m about to—If you don’t stop, I’m going to—”

Then he came, smothering his shout of release so it wouldn’t be too loud for the quiet house. The pleasure pulsed through him, sustained by the delicious suction of her mouth, until his whole body fell limp.

“Oh fuck,” he muttered, collapsing back on the pillow. “That was…”

She came up from under the covers, and there was a smile in her voice as she asked, “That was what?”

“That was incredible.” He wrapped an arm around her as she curled up beside him again, pressing her sweet body against his.

She laughed softly. “You should feel better now.”

He felt deliciously relaxed, his muscles softening and his breathing starting to slow. His eyes were even starting to close, but he tilted his head to kiss her hair. “I do. Thank you. I can do you now, if you want.”

“I’m good.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I liked it. Doing that for you.”

It felt important—that she’d say it, that she’d mean it. “Thank you,” he said again, since he didn’t know what else to say.

“You’re welcome.”

He felt so good he was almost asleep, but he suddenly remembered her interrupted attempts to say something before Harrison and Marietta had arrived. “What were you going to say to me earlier? You said you needed to tell me something.”

She hesitated, her body tightening briefly. Then she relaxed and said, “It’s not for tonight. Let’s just go to sleep.”

Andrew had no objections to that. He held Laurel against him until he fell asleep, which was only a few minutes later.

Before he dozed off, he murmured in the dark, “I’m crazy about you, Laurel.”

He could almost feel her smiling. “You just say that because you got a blow job.”

He chuckled groggily, but he knew—he
knew
—it wasn’t true.

Laurel woke up early, as usual.

She lay awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling. Andrew was still asleep beside her, one of his arms hooked above his head, in what must be his habitual sleeping pose.

She listened to him breathe, felt the heat from his body.

She had to tell him the truth. She didn’t want to keep from him a part of herself he needed to know.

He wasn’t a judgmental man, but he trusted her. It would matter to him that she lied to him.

She’d chickened out last night. He’d been so soft, so affectionate. She’d loved taking care of him in such an intimate way. She hadn’t wanted to ruin it with a hard conversation.

But she really needed to tell him soon.

The guest suite they’d slept in was nicely decorated in Provençal style, with fresh fabrics, aged furniture, and gorgeous landscape paintings. She looked around as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, trying to kill time, until she’d taken in every detail, including the fraying hem of one of the curtains.

Finally, she gave up and tiptoed to the bathroom. She took a quick shower, clipping her hair up so she wouldn’t have to dry it, and got dressed without turning on the light in the bedroom.

Andrew was still sleeping when she slipped out the door.

The whole house was quiet. It was just five-thirty. Restless and antsy, she made coffee and then emptied the clean dishes from the dishwasher. Needing to keep busy, she found some baking supplies and quickly made up some lemon-cranberry scones.

While they were in the oven, she cleaned the counter and swept the floor.

She was telling herself it would be rude to reorganize someone else’s pantry when Marietta came in with a friendly, “Good morning.”

Marietta had obviously just gotten up. She was wearing pink man-style pajamas, and her hair wasn’t brushed.

Laurel could never have pulled off that look, but Marietta managed to look adorable.

“I hope I didn’t wake you up. I have a bad habit of getting up early.”

“No, you didn’t,” Marietta assured her, peeking in the oven. “Yum! Is Andrew still in bed? If so, he’ll have to miss out on the scones, since we’re eating those as soon as they’re ready.”

Laurel laughed. The more she got to know Marietta, the more she liked her. She’d felt chastened yesterday over dinner, when she learned that Marietta had spent thirteen years of her life in a wheelchair.

She’d assumed Marietta’s life had been simple, easy, protected, but Marietta’s life had been harder than Laurel’s—and
she
’d never lied to and tried to use a man the way Laurel had Andrew.

Marietta got a cup of coffee, refilled Laurel’s mug, and then sat down at the kitchen table beside her. “How long have you and Andrew been together?”

Laurel blinked, surprised by the blunt question, but the gray eyes were friendly and not offensively prying. “I don’t know if we’re really… I mean, it hasn’t been very long. We haven’t talked about it or anything.”

“Ah,” Marietta said with a smile. “I get it. He’s a really great guy.”

“I know he is.”

“He seems to like you a lot.”

Laurel looked away, self-conscious and hopeful at once. Too much was uncertain to let herself hope for a future with Andrew, but she couldn’t help but feel a rising excitement.

“Have you met Mr. Damon?” Marietta asked.

“No. I haven’t met anyone. It’s only been a couple of weeks.”

Marietta’s pretty features twisted strangely, as if she was going to say something but stopped herself.

“What is it?” Laurel asked. When Marietta still hesitated, she added, “I mean it. Tell me.”

“It’s …different, being with a Damon.”

Laurel swallowed, waiting for the other woman to continue.

“I mean, I wouldn’t trade Harrison for the world, not for the
world
. But it hasn’t been smooth sailing. They have pressures unlike anyone else because they’re Damons, because of who their uncle is.”

“What do you mean? What kinds of pressures?”

Marietta gave a little shrug. “Harrison hasn’t talked to his uncle for over a month—because Harrison chose to be with me.”

Laurel’s lips parted. Marietta with her fresh candor, her bright spirit, and her sheltered background seemed like the girlfriend any family would dream of. “Why doesn’t he like you?”

“He does like me. That’s not it at all.” Marietta glanced away, out the window, and looked sad for just a moment. “It’s a really complicated story. I promise I’ll tell you sometime. My point was just… I don’t know. I shouldn’t be telling you this at all. Andrew is such a great guy, and it’s so early you probably aren’t thinking of anything but having a good time with him.”

She looked embarrassed and like she wanted to take back what she’d said, but Laurel wanted to hear it. “Is Mr. Damon really that unreasonable?”

“No, no. He’s…” Marietta paused, as if to choose her words carefully. “He’s an incredibly civilized man—and he always acts on what he believes to be right and just. But he lives by a code that most of us don’t, so it’s hard if we fall short.”

“How could you have fallen short?”

“I didn’t fall short. Harrison did.” Marietta straightened up and went to check the scones. When she saw they were ready, she pulled the tray out of the oven.

She was smiling when she turned around. “But it’s getting better. There has evidently been some thawing. We’re going back to England soon so Harrison can get back into the family business. He’s a little bit crazy, and he misses the work.”

Laurel laughed at Marietta’s wry tone, but her heart sank as she fully processed what the other woman had said. If eminently respectable Harrison and sweet Marietta had somehow failed to live up to Cyrus Damon’s code, then what would he think of Laurel?

She was from the back hills of West Virginia, dirt poor and with just a high school education. She’d worked in a strip joint until she’d married a much older man and became a trophy wife.

If she started to date Andrew, there was no way Cyrus Damon wouldn’t look into her background.  He wasn’t going to approve.

“What’s wrong?” Marietta said, swallowing a bite of scone.

Laurel shook her head, trying to put together a plan to deal with this. She could tell Andrew the truth about everything. She was pretty sure she could make him understand. Then maybe they could figure out something. She didn’t want to estrange him from his family. She knew how much his family meant to Andrew.

But she also didn’t want to give him up.

“Why is everyone awake so early?” Andrew asked, walking into the kitchen. He was unshaven and dressed in nothing but worn-out sweatpants with rumpled hair and bare feet. “At least I beat Harrison out of bed.”

“Nope. He was taking a shower when I came out. He actually never went to bed.”

“He worked all night? I didn’t think he did that anymore.”

“He doesn’t. It’s your fault, since I think he was looking into whatever you’re here about. Who would have thought you’d be the one to drag him back into work.” Marietta grinned at Andrew as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Laurel felt another one of those irrational twinges—this one more possessiveness than jealousy. She didn’t like that another woman was getting to see Andrew looking so mussed, half-dressed, and scrumptious. Like before, she stamped the feeling down because it was ridiculous.

Andrew leaned down to kiss Laurel on the lips, tasting like coffee. Then he leaned down to kiss Marietta on the top of her head. Picking up a scone, he said, “I guess that means I better get dressed too. Carry on.”

Laurel smiled after him, feeling a swell of something so deep, so powerful, she couldn’t quite process it.

“Whatever has happened between the two of you,” Marietta said softly, “it’s been good.”

Laurel turned with a jerk of her head.

“I mean it. He’s always been great, but he’s somehow even better now. Like he finally takes life seriously.”

Laurel felt another wave of excitement and emotion, wondering if that was really true, if she’d really been good for him. All she said was, “And you had that profound insight from just watching him get a cup of coffee?”

Marietta laughed merrily. “And last night too. There’s a definite difference. Harrison noticed it too.” She paused and must have seen the hopeful disbelief on Laurel’s face. “You didn’t know him before.”

***

Andrew was in a really good mood as he quickly showered and shaved.

Things were finally falling into place. He and Harrison could figure out the inn, which hopefully would conclude with Laurel’s keeping it. He’d been worried last night about how he would handle a relationship with her, but this morning it didn’t seem so complicated. They could date long-distance for a while. He’d fly into Santorini every weekend if he missed her too much. It really seemed like she wanted to be with him, like she wasn’t holding back anymore.

For the first time, his future didn’t feel like nothing but an endless series of tedious business meetings and empty sexual encounters.

It was so strange—to be with a woman as long as he’d been with Laurel and not start to wonder who he might be with next. But he didn’t. He didn’t want anyone but Laurel. Truth be told, he couldn’t imagine ever wanting anyone else.

Maybe, maybe, she felt the same way. It was soon, but it wasn’t impossible.

He’d yanked on a pair of trousers and was pulling a shirt over his head when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” he called through the cotton of his shirt.

Harrison opened the door.

Andrew knew immediately from the expression on his brother’s face that something was wrong.

“What is it?” he asked. “Is Laurel okay?”

Harrison’s mouth tightened ominously. “You better come see something.”

Andrew became increasingly anxious as he walked with Harrison down the hall and toward the office. He could hear the women laughing in the kitchen.

“Harry,” Marietta called out when they passed, “Did you want a scone?”

When Harrison didn’t reply to the friendly question, Andrew knew that whatever his brother had to tell him was really, really bad.

“Damn it,” he muttered, when Harrison closed the office door. “What’s going on? You’re giving me a heart attack. Is it Lord Uncle?”

“No. Sit down.”

Andrew sat down in a leather chair next to the desk.

“I’d forgotten all about Grayson,” Harrison began. “The bank’s assets weren’t really that substantial in the scheme of things, and it’s been a while now.  But I pulled the information up last night so we could go over it. Then I remembered.”

Andrew felt his stomach clench sickeningly when he realized his brother’s brooding tension had to do with Laurel and the inn. “What is it?”

“Grayson was more of a gambler than an investor, and most of his investments went bust. He lived like he had money, but he was running from creditors most of his life.”

Andrew grew very still. That wasn’t the story of her husband Laurel had told him.

“The inn definitely doesn’t belong to Laurel. If you’ve found something that says it does, then the evidence has been fabricated. I’m really sorry,” Harrison said, leaning forward, his eyes utterly sober. “But I think she’s been lying to you.”

“No, she hasn’t.” Andrew felt rather ill all of a sudden, but there was no way he would believe that about Laurel.

“I’m telling you—” Harrison’s words were cut off by a knock on the door.

Marietta entered with a two scones on a plate and a tall mug of coffee. “Harry, since you insist on working all through the night and morning, I figured you could at least—” Her cheerful voice broke off when she registered their expressions. “What’s going on?”

Harrison gestured her into a chair. “I was telling him about Laurel.”

“What about—”

“This is wrong,” Andrew interrupted. “I know you’ve had a couple of bad experiences with women, but they’re not all deceptive, manipulative gold-diggers. Laurel isn’t like that.”

“I don’t think you know everything about her.” Harrison’s eyes were full of pity, and the sympathetic expression made everything worse.

“I can believe Grayson did whatever you’re going to tell me he did, but Laurel didn’t know anything about it. She’s acted in good faith all this time.”

“I don’t think she has. What did she tell you about how Grayson gave her the property?”

“She said it was a first anniversary present because she’d always dreamed of living on a Greek island and he wanted her to have something that was hers alone.”

“He didn’t give it to her as an anniversary present. It was transferred into her name two weeks after their marriage. I’m pretty sure he did it just so the property wouldn’t be claimed by his creditors.”

Andrew couldn’t seem to catch his breath as the words hit him like bullets. She’d made it very clear the inn was a first anniversary present. “Even so,” he said hoarsely, “that just means Grayson lied to her. It doesn’t mean she knows anything about it.”