Tangled Web (6 page)

Hope shook her head, a defiant light in her dark blue eyes. “It's too late. I know how you feel about me and about him, Chase.” Her voice choked and she shook her head in helpless misery. “How you've felt all along—” Her jaw set as her eyes filled with tears. “Why don't you just go ahead and say it, Chase? You think I married your father for his money.”

Chase could take a lot of things, but not her playing the victim—not now. “Are you telling me that you didn't?” Chase asked in cool disbelief, his temper rising. “That all this—” he gestured at the Louis XV chairs and the Aubusson rug “—played no part in it?”

Hope wanted to say that was so, but she knew in her heart it wasn't true. Edmond's power and wealth and this River Oaks fortress he had built had been a big part of the attraction when they had first met. She had needed to be taken in and protected at that point in her life. Because of the situation she had been running from, only someone like Edmond had possessed what it had taken to make her feel secure.

Realizing Chase was still waiting for an answer and that she couldn't explain any of her actions without revealing the ugliness and pain in her past, she revealed only the part of the truth she felt she could tell him. “I loved your father, Chase. I loved him with all my heart and soul.”

Remembering the way she had broken down at Edmond's funeral, Chase didn't doubt that. Neither could he forget how they'd come together in the first place. “He was old enough to be your father, Hope.”

Hope's slender shoulders stiffened defensively. “He was also gentle and good.”

Frowning, Chase studied her. “Gentle and good” were only a small part of what Hope needed in a man, whether she realized it or not. There was a hell of a lot more to a fulfilling relationship between a man and a woman than mutual kindness. They needed to be able to turn to one another physically as well and know they'd get a lot more than a lukewarm roll in the hay. “You're telling me there was this great passion between you, that the two of you just couldn't stay out of each other's arms?” He didn't know why, he just didn't buy it. Not with any rich old man and pretty young chick in general and certainly not with Hope and his father. They just hadn't given off those vibes.

Hope turned away, looking angry and upset and uncomfortable. “That,” she said flatly, offended by his presumption, “is none of your business, Chase.”

Chase supposed she was right about that, too. Nonetheless, her evasion made him all the more certain. Even though Hope clearly had loved his father and had made Edmond very happy, she hadn't loved him in the beginning. Not the way a new bride was
supposed
to love her husband. And that he couldn't condone. Marriage should be more than a business deal or convenient arrangement. Especially for nineteen-year-old girls, even pregnant ones.

Hope ran a hand through her hair, looking even more distressed. She took a drink of her cola. Her back to him, she took a lengthy swallow. “We shouldn't be talking about this, Chase,” she continued in a voice that was thick with suppressed emotion. “You obviously resent me and—”

“Can you blame me?” Chase countered incredulously. She was acting like it was all his fault, and it wasn't. “You broke up my parents' marriage, Hope.” And not because she hadn't been able to keep her hands off his father, either, but because she had clearly wanted all this and to inherit the store someday.

“You're wrong about that. I never—and I repeat never—came between them!”

His own temper flaring dangerously, he stalked closer. If he got
nothing else out of this, he wanted the truth. “Then tell me how it happened,” he continued gruffly. “How you started working for Barrister's and six months later my parents' marriage is in a shambles, my father's insisting on a quicky divorce and an even quicker settlement so he can go off and marry you in some tacky Las Vegas chapel. Six months after
that
you present him with a son.”

Hope turned white, then red, then white again, but as Chase had expected, she said nothing to defend herself. Chase continued, “Yes, I've resented you all these years. Just as my mother has resented you. But for the sake of everyone, including Joey, I'm trying to do the decent thing now and get past it. Move forward. I know it's what my father would have wanted.” And although Chase had let Edmond down in the past, many times, he wasn't going to do so now.

And for his father's sake he had to fight his deep attraction to Hope. God knew he didn't want it, hadn't planned for it, but there it was. He wanted his father's wife in a distinctly man-woman way. And though he felt guilty as hell about it, his feelings weren't going to magically go away. His only choice was to try to work through them, to get to know Hope and perhaps demystify her and diffuse his desire in the process.

He faced Hope earnestly, trying hard not to notice the tears sparkling in her eyes, or think about what an uphill battle this was bound to be. “The least you could do is help me out here.”

Her chin took on a stubborn tilt. “I don't want your charity or your sense of obligation, not with the store or with Joey,” she specified flatly.

Chase sighed heavily. His motivations were as pure and chivalrous as he could make them right now, but she was within her rights to resent his presence. Just trying to talk to each other with anything resembling intimacy put them both on edge. If she had anyone else to turn to for help—but she didn't. That meant he had to forge ahead and do his best to be “family” to her now. He hoped like hell that in the long run everything would turn out for the best.

“About Joey,” Chase continued doggedly, ignoring her stormy glare. “I know he has asthma. I know he is small for his age. But he's scrappy and smart and he needs to lead the most normal life possible if you don't want him to become a sissy or an invalid. That includes playing Little League and learning to fight his own
battles. You can't call the coach and complain every time he has a disagreement with another child.”

Her shoulders took on a stiff, unwieldy look. “I don't.”

“But you want to,” he supposed confidently.

Fighting a guilty flush, she said, “Look, I want Joey to be a man every bit as much as you and Edmond did, but I draw the line at endangering his health.” She held up a hand, stop-sign fashion, staving off the refuting comment Chase was about to make. “Because I know how much this means to Joey, however, I've already decided I'll let him continue to play ball, providing he doesn't get beat up again. If he does, all promises are off.”

Chase was glad to see she was being reasonable. “If he gets slugged again,” Chase vowed, “I'll go talk to the coach myself.” An occasional scuffle was to be expected. Habitual brawling was not.

Hope nodded acquiescently, looking grateful for his help now. Like Chase, she seemed to know there were times when Joey missed his father and needed a man. “Fair enough,” she conceded reluctantly, accepting his subtle offer of truce.

The silence strung out between them. Chase regarded her flushed, upturned face silently. Strangely and unexpectedly, he was reluctant to leave just yet. Looking at her in the dimming light, he was aware once again of how beautiful she was, how vulnerable. While he admired her boundless love for her son and her strength of purpose in managing the store, he did not like the fact that she always seemed to withhold much, much more than she ever said. He never knew what she was thinking. Only that he was excluded.

Because he had no reason to linger, Chase said a neutral goodbye and headed back to the guest house. Walking across the lawn, he thought about how much he liked women who dealt directly, who weren't afraid to speak their minds. Hope's secretiveness simultaneously disappointed him and made him all the more curious. Was she really the deceiving home wrecker Rosemary claimed? Or the loving angel his father had depicted? Her actions regarding her son seemed to point to the latter, but if that were the case and she indeed had nothing to hide about her relationship with Edmond, then why was she so afraid of divulging more about herself? Was she like his ex-fiancé, Lucy, just incapable of disclosing intimate details about herself? Or was it something else?

Dammit, he thought on a new burst of frustration and pique.
Why wouldn't Hope just tell him how, why, when and where she and his dad had gotten involved? Instead, she simply stated over and over that she had loved Edmond. Did she think him hard-hearted and judgmental? Or was there more going on?

Having been around Hope, Chase's heart was telling him to ignore his mother's strident accusations against her, to ignore the facts, and trust in Hope's inherent goodness exactly the way his father had. He didn't know whether that made him a fool, but one way or another he was going to find out the whole truth before he left again. It was the only way he'd ever have any peace.

If Hope wouldn't voluntarily vindicate herself in his eyes, he'd just have to do it for her.

 

H
OURS LATER
, Hope stood at her bedroom window looking down at the pool. Chase was swimming laps as intensely as if he were training for the next Olympics. Watching his sturdy body slice through the glistening blue water, she thought she knew precisely how he felt. Their “little talk” about Joey and her marriage had her still strung up tighter than a bow. Had he not been down there swimming off his tension in the pool, she would've been. Going into the adjoining sitting room, she climbed purposefully onto her exercise bike and began to work out. And once again, her thoughts turned back to Chase.

They'd never meant to say even half of what they had. Considering how many years and at what cost they'd been steadfastly avoiding each other, it wasn't surprising that they had finally spoken their minds.

Like almost everyone else in Houston, Chase considered her a gold digger because she'd married a wealthy man twice her age. Unfortunately, no matter how much it grated on her nerves, it was an erroneous assumption she was going to have to let stand. To tell him the truth about her and his father's desperate personal situations at the time of their marriage was unthinkable. She had promised Edmond that no one would ever know the shame and humiliation he had suffered. And that was a promise she was determined to keep for herself and her son, as well as for her late husband. Joey had been devastated by his father's death. He couldn't be expected to weather a scandal as well.

She pedaled harder, her hands gripping the handlebars on the
stationary bike. What bothered her most about all this discord was that, their long-standing differences aside, Chase was such a nice and honorable man. He was remarkably unspoiled for someone who'd grown up with as much wealth and power as he. He also knew his own mind, and hadn't been afraid to go after a career in medical research even when he'd been continually pressured to do otherwise and take over the family business. She admired his strength of character and was certain had they met any other way that they would've been friends, and possibly much, much more.

After all, he was good with children and interested in them; he'd evidenced that with Joey. He cared about people, as did she, and tried not to hurt anyone voluntarily. But even more compelling than that was the attraction between them. She couldn't be around him without feeling very much alive and very much a woman. And like it or not, she knew those feelings weren't going to go away.

“Well, it's about time you got here!” Rosemary Barrister said the moment Hope stepped off the elevator the following morning.

Knowing Chase was right behind her—they'd driven to the office separately and met up in the parking garage—Hope tightened her hold on the briefcase in her hand and headed for her office. She did not want to argue with Rosemary in front of the staff. Rosemary looked as if she wanted very much to fight.

Rosemary followed Hope into her office, her stiletto heels clicking on the polished floor. Chase was close on their heels.

“Do you know what this woman has done now?” Rosemary demanded of her son. She pointed an accusatory finger at Hope.

Looking dismayed, Chase shut the door behind them.

Rosemary continued vehemently, “She turned down the chance of a lifetime for silly personal reasons!”

Hope put her briefcase down and moved behind her desk. Although it was barely nine, she could feel the beginnings of a monstrous tension headache. It made her just want to go home and crawl into bed and pull the covers over her head. “What are you talking about?” she asked Rosemary wearily, wishing Edmond's ex had just stayed in Monte Carlo, where she belonged.

“Russell Morris.” Rosemary uttered the name in vindictive triumph, then turned to Chase. Hope's heart stopped and the blood drained from her face. “He had a wonderful proposition for Barrister's,” Rosemary continued spitefully, “and Hope wouldn't even hear him out.”

No emotion readily apparent on his face, Chase looked at Hope for confirmation.

She didn't know what to say. She couldn't very well tell Chase that she hated Russell without revealing why. She couldn't do that without hurting herself even more. Her stomach lurching, she struggled for an excuse. “He didn't have an appointment.”

“Oh, for heaven's sake! Russell Morris owns one of the largest textile companies in the entire South! He doesn't need an appointment,” Rosemary said.

Hope worked hard to keep her panic hidden. He couldn't hurt her anymore, she schooled herself firmly. Keeping an iron grip on her soaring emotions, she informed Rosemary coolly, “If Mr. Morris wants to meet with me, he does.”

Rosemary smiled triumphantly then twisted the knife. “Russell's not having an appointment isn't the issue and you know it,” she sneered. “You just didn't want to meet with him because of your thwarted romantic past with the man.”

Feeling her legs begin to buckle, Hope put a steadying hand on her desk. Rosemary was wearing an abundance of perfume, and the cloying, heavy smell was making her feel even sicker. “What romantic past?” Hope asked in the most even voice she could manage. If Russell had so much as hinted to Rosemary what had happened, it would be disastrous. Cutting off her deeply troubled thoughts, she demanded, “What did he tell you?”

Rosemary smiled. “That your family used to tenant-farm cotton on Morris land when you were a teenager, and that you had a crush on him he didn't return.” She lifted her narrow shoulders in an eloquent shrug. “Obviously you're still holding his good sense against him!”

“Mother!” Chase began, his tone warning her to back off. He looked as if he had heard quite enough, and more importantly still, didn't appreciate Rosemary's attempts to assassinate Hope's character. “What happened then,” Chase continued firmly, “has absolutely no bearing on our company problems now.”

“I think it does,” Rosemary countered smugly, whisking an imaginary piece of lint from the emerald-and-onyx broach she had pinned to the lapel of her Coco Chanel suit. “Hope's refusal to even listen to Russell proves once and for all she is just not capable of running a complex operation like Barrister's.”

Chase turned to Hope. He was wearing a stone-colored Armani jacket and pants over a long-sleeved raglan polo, in smoky gray. Loose and unstructured, the softly draped suit flattered the sinewy
contours of his tall physique and gave him a breathtakingly understated look. His eyes weren't calm but when he looked at her, they rarely were, and the complex welter of emotions in them was impossible to decipher. She knew he was acutely interested in her and all that was going on. Maybe he was even slightly protective of her with Rosemary on the scene, but that was all she knew. It was all she could allow herself to know, Hope told herself as her stomach muscles tightened.

“Were you unfair to him?” Chase asked.

Considering what Russell Morris had done to her and the way he had ruined her life? “I don't think so, no,” Hope answered stiffly.

Chase slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers. His posture was both controlled and lazy as he leaned insouciantly against the other side of her desk. She suppressed the urge to swallow nervously as his hazel eyes fastened on hers and held.

“What did he want?” His voice was casual. Too casual.

Hope really wasn't sure. She wasn't naive enough to think Russell Morris would have appeared in her life again without an ulterior motive. Russell Morris and his family did everything with an ulterior motive. She'd found that out the hard way. But not about to reveal that to Chase and risk further questioning, she moved her shoulders and said evasively, “I don't know. We never got that far.”

Chase lifted his brow, making Hope feel all the more embarrassed and strangely inept. It was not as if by letting the store down, she had let Chase down, too. And that was silly because she knew he had never cared much about Barrister's. If he had he would've taken the job as company president, as his father had wanted. Nevertheless, it was humiliating to stand there and let Rosemary put her down in front of Chase. More than anyone, she wanted him to respect her, as a person and a businesswoman. It was clear from the quizzical look on his face he was no longer sure he could do so.

“You see?” Rosemary cut in, taking advantage of her son's shock to press her point. “She wouldn't even listen to him. If Russell hadn't had the moxie to come to me with his proposition, Barrister's might have lost out entirely on what could prove to be a very lucrative arrangement for both our firms.”

“Which is?” Chase prodded dryly. Like Hope, he seemed to sense that there had to be a catch somewhere.

“He wants to manufacture an exclusive line of linens and draperies for the Barrister's label. The profit margin would be very high, for both of us.” Rosemary's eyes sparkled greedily. “All we'd have to do is put up the capital—”

Hope cut in, “First of all, Barrister's has made its reputation carrying only the finest quality name-brand merchandise. We have no store brand, nor do we plan to have one in the future. Our customers view that with the same disregard they have for anything remotely generic. Second, we're in no position at the moment to undertake anything nearly that risky.” And third, she would never ever trust Russell Morris an inch again, no matter how much she or Barrister's supposedly stood to gain. The pain of dealing with him would never be worth it; not in a million years. She couldn't even look at him without thinking about the ugliness of the past, and without resurrecting painful memories.

“I'm afraid she's right on that score, Mother.” Chase stepped in, taking up Hope's defense. “It may be a good idea, but right now, the Board of Directors would never go for it. It's just too risky.”

Rosemary knew she was outvoted. She wasn't a good loser. Crossing her arms at her waist, she sent an aggrieved look at her son. “Fine. You don't want to go with the idea, I won't pursue it. At least for the moment.” She glared at Hope, letting her know the battle between them wasn't over yet. She turned back to her son. “But that doesn't change the facts here, Chase.” Her manicured finger stabbed the air between them. “A known businessman, whose family has been a legend in the South for years, went to Hope with a proposition yesterday and she treated him very, very rudely. For silly, juvenile reasons.” Rosemary turned to glare at Hope. “Who knows how many other people she has slighted in the past? Why, for all we know this is why Barrister's is going down the drain. And furthermore,” Rosemary said, spinning on her heel, “I intend to let our board members know this.”

The door slammed behind her. Hope and Chase faced each other in silence. “I have not treated anyone else rudely,” Hope said finally, still stinging from Rosemary's insults. She felt frustrated because she was unable to defend herself the way she wanted to, in a way that would vindicate her in his eyes.

Chase latched on to what she didn't say. “But you did treat Russell Morris rudely?” he demanded.

Hope took a deep breath, knowing she had to tell him the whole truth about that much or risk him confirming it another way. “Yes,” she admitted finally, turning away from Chase's searing gaze. She clasped her hands together to hide their trembling. “I guess I did.” Walking over to the window, she opened the blinds.

In the sunlight, her face looked fragile, her mouth vulnerable, and her eyes sad and scared. Chase felt his heart go out to her. The meeting with Russell Morris had been harder on Hope than she wanted them to know. Knowing something must've happened, and that it wasn't like her to be rude to people, he probed for details.

“Was he rude to you first?” Chase asked, following her. She turned and gave him a hot, bitter look, one he sensed was directed more at Russell and what
he'd
done than at him. Realizing she'd given away more than she intended, Hope pivoted away from him again.

Chase moved, too, not stopping until there was scant space between them and he could see the profile of her face.

Hope drew in a taut breath. Her hands were clenched in front of her again, so tightly the knuckles shone white. “Rude or not,” she murmured with a calm she didn't seem to feel, “I can handle Russell Morris.”

What secrets was she holding from him? he wondered. And how long would it be before the air between them was cleared, before she trusted him enough to confide in him? Not used to waiting for anything, he wanted to demand answers, but sensing that would only drive her farther away, he said nothing.

She was near enough to see how closely he had shaved that morning. And that the sunlight brought out the sun-streaked gold of his hair as well as the deeply tanned hue of his skin. The constant exposure to the elements of sun, wind and rain had given his skin a faintly weathered, very wholesome look.

He was very curious about her, about Russell. Part of her wanted nothing more than to move into those strong arms of his, take whatever comfort he could give and tell him everything. But she knew she couldn't. What would be cathartic for her, would be devastating for others. And too many people had been hurt by Russell already. She wouldn't be a pawn and inflict more pain.

Realizing after a moment that Chase was still waiting for an explanation from her, Hope jerked from her troubled reverie but still didn't know what to say. Her hatred of Russell went back such a long way. She couldn't get into that without revealing the sordid details of her own past. Even Edmond hadn't known all the details.

“Was he rude?” Chase repeated, looking as though he wanted to find Morris and confront him.

Panicking at the thought of what might be revealed if that happened, Hope shook her head. “No—”

“But he does get to you, doesn't he?” Chase probed casually, looking grim and troubled. “Don't bother to deny it,” he continued evenly before she could even begin to form a stalling retort. Stepping closer, he went on matter-of-factly, “You froze up the moment his name was first mentioned.”

She knew that, too. She didn't like the fact that Chase had noticed, or that, unlike Edmond, Chase wouldn't let something go simply because she wanted him to. Hating the defensive shift in her posture, she pushed her fingers through her hair. She had to tell him something. Otherwise, he'd never quit. “We were never friends, okay?” she responded passionately. “I know what your mother said, but the truth is I didn't ever know him very well, and what I did find out about him, I didn't like.” In fact, I hated, she added mentally.

“But the two of you did date once,” Chase pressed, more puzzled than ever.

Awash in regret, Hope lifted her head. “Twice.” In retrospect, she found it hard to believe she had ever been that foolish and naive.

His eyes pierced hers. “And it didn't work out,” he ascertained softly.

That was the understatement of the century. “Right,” Hope replied. Both her expression and her voice were as neutral as she could make them.

“And that's why you're holding a grudge against him?”

That, and I don't trust him, Hope thought, aware her heart was thudding heavily in her chest. Admitting only what she felt she could, she evaded Chase's question entirely. “I don't trust him or his motives right now because his firm is in trouble. His family was heavily into land speculation at the time of the oil bust. They
lost quite a bit, and from what I've read, have yet to recover. The Morris Fabric Company is about all they have left.”

“And that's why you refused to hear him out?” Chase regarded her inscrutably. “Because you think they might be in a panic now or because they've made some bad business decisions in the past?”

No, Hope thought, because Russell hurt me terribly and caused my estrangement from my family. She shrugged indifferently and picked up her calendar. “I've got a very busy day.”

He studied her relentlessly, knowing instinctively she was only telling him a small part of the truth. He didn't like that but finally took the hint and headed for the door anyway. As Hope watched him go, it was all she could do not to tell him to wait. She wanted to tell him what had happened, now and in the past. If she did, she would be vindicated. He would know her for the good person she was, rather than the money-grubbing amoral home wrecker circumstances indicated. But she couldn't confide in him about her marriage without breaking her promise to Edmond. Nor could she risk letting her past with Russell Morris be known, for Joey's sake. She remained silent, torn between wanting Chase to know the truth and wanting her future and her son to be protected.