Taste for Trouble (25 page)
“Interesting,”
Will said, careful to ensure that his tone would imply just the opposite. “And
this?” He gestured to the child.
“This,”
Audrey said, her chin hiked into the air, disdain oozing from her perfect
pores, “is Jillian. She’s eight years old and she’s—” She broke off, glanced
down at the child and lightly fluffed her silvery hair. Hair only a few tones
lighter than Audrey’s own. She looked back at Will and said simply, “She’s
mine.”
“Yours.”
In spite of everything—the hair, the eyes, those bony, fragile little wrists—he
mustered up a skeptical look. “And you’re how old?”
She
gazed at him, temper still licking in her eyes but banked now. Under control. “Twenty-two.”
He’d
always liked math. It was so rigid, so predictable. So unflinching. Emotion
simply didn’t factor in. Or so he’d always thought. Right up until he did the
inevitable calculation—the one she must’ve seen in thousands of eyes over the
years—and arrived at the conclusion that she’d given birth at fourteen.
He
knew it happened. It was a sad story, no question, but one he’d heard before. What
shocked him was the dark stab of helpless fury that lodged itself in his gut. The
miserable, impotent rage of knowing that some sick bastard had taken such
vicious advantage of a child. Any child, of course. But the child Audrey must
have been? Her body slim and unformed and graceful, her face already glowing
like some kind of fucking star?
“Mine,”
she said firmly. “Any other questions you want to ask that are none of your
business?”
“I
do have a few,” he said, but broke off when Bel burst through the door. Even
panting and flushed from what he assumed was her sprint down the stairs, she
still managed to exude an air of calm competence.
“Good
morning, Will. I see you’ve met Jillian,” she said, her voice as smooth as her
glossy ponytail.
“Yep,”
Will said. “Audrey and I were just talking about how exactly she came to have
an eight-year-old—”
He
broke off again as James shoved through the door, red-cheeked and sucking wind.
“Good lord,” he said, and bent at the waist. “It’s a party.” He patted Bel on
the leg. It was all he could reach, Will could see that. Nothing personal but Bel
still jumped about out of her skin.
“Water,”
he said. “Please.”
Bel
moved toward the sink with an alacrity that had a grim satisfaction moving
through Will. Maybe she’d tied James up in knots, but at least she wasn’t
enjoying it. Looked like she had a few knots of her own to untangle. Which she
deserved.
She
thrust a glass of water into James’ seeking hand. He straightened up, drained
it in one long swallow and plopped down on the tile floor to stretch.
“God,”
he said, going to work on his hamstrings. “When did I get this old? I used to
run ten miles for fun. I got to six today before I decided I didn’t feel like
barfing before breakfast.”
He
grinned up at the assembled crowd. “Hey, Audrey,” he said. “You’re early
today.” He turned his attention to Will. “You, too. What’s got you out of bed
at this hour?”
“There
was this ungodly racket in the room next to mine about an hour ago,” he said. “You
can’t imagine. Impossible to sleep through.”
James’
grin widened. “How rude. You ought to speak to the management. She’s up early,
too.”
Bel
put up her hands. “Not my issue. I don’t deal with that wing of the house.”
James
stood and grabbed the island counter for balance while he worked on his quads. “Out
of luck, I guess. Too bad.” He turned his attention to Jillian. “Hey, who’s
this?” He gave her his usual high-wattage smile, as if finding a silent
eight-year-old in his kitchen along with half his family and most of his staff
at seven a.m. was par for the course.
Audrey
drew the child closer to her side. “This is Jillian.”
“Hey,
Jillian.” James switched legs. “I’d shake but I’m disgusting. Did I mention I
ran six miles?”
Will
rolled his eyes and Jillian nodded, a faint smile flickering at the corners of
her mouth. Audrey knelt down and took her by the shoulders.
“Jillian,
do you mind going back upstairs with Bel for a few minutes? I need to speak
with James.”
The
little girl glanced at Bel, who smiled encouragingly at her. She kept her hands
to herself, though, Will noticed. Something he kind of wished he’d done
himself, now. The kid’s wide-eyed silence was starting to put another kink in
his stomach, the kind he’d felt when he’d done Audrey’s math a minute ago. What
had happened to this kid? And why the hell hadn’t her mother, who by God ought
to know better by now, protected her?
“I
need to get dressed,” Bel said to Jillian. “You want to help me pick out
something to wear? I can never decide.”
Jillian
turned uncertain eyes on Audrey who nodded firmly. “Bel’s okay,” she said. “She’ll
take good care of you. I’ll be up in a minute.”
Jillian
gave that one-shouldered shrug again and followed Bel out the door. Bel caught
Audrey’s eye as they left and gave her the same smile she’d just given the
child, a smile that said
courage
. Will wondered what the hell was going
on.
Then
Audrey turned cold eyes on him. “Do you mind?” she asked. “I’d like a word with
your brother in private.”
Will
had expected that, but it still stung. He’d beaten James into the world by two
years and had spent the next twenty-eight coming in second. With sports, with
women, with success. James was, he willingly admitted, a more likeable,
talented guy. He’d accepted that long ago. So why did it suddenly chafe just
because a pretty teenaged mother shoved his nose in it?
Will
didn’t have an answer for that one, nor did he want one.
“I
don’t think so,” he said. “As James’ manager, I’m required to sit in on all
negotiations concerning terms of employment.”
Audrey
looked to James, who shrugged easily. “It’s true,” he said. “I know you and
Will haven’t exactly gotten along in the past, but you’re both part of Team
Blake now, so we’re going to have to put all that behind us. Time to cowboy up.”
Audrey
cut her eyes back to Will, a clear
yeah, right
in her face. Will smiled
at her.
James
finally stopped stretching. “Damn. I’m going to be one sorry son of a bitch
tomorrow morning when my muscles figure out what just happened.” He spotted the
basket on the island counter and his eyes lit up. “Are those Bel’s cinnamon
rolls? Hot damn and don’t mind if I do. Because I ran six miles today. Did I
mention that?”
He
pulled out a stool and applied himself to a sweet roll. “Now,” he said. “Audrey.
What’s going on?”
James
watched an epic struggle play out over Audrey Bing’s pretty face while he
chewed thoughtfully on a big hunk of Bel’s incredible cinnamon roll.
“Can
I take five minutes to get dressed?” she finally asked.
“Not
going to help,” James said. “Take it from a master procrastinator. Better to
just get it out.” He glanced at his brother, who stood glowering at the poor
girl. What on earth did Will have against this woman? He’d have to press him on
that later. In the meantime, he didn’t mind evening the playing field a little.
“Will,”
he said, “give Audrey your robe, would you?”
Will
frowned at him. “What?”
“Your
robe,” he said. “Give it to her. She’s clearly got a lot at stake here and is
feeling vulnerable in her nightie. You’ve got flannels on, I can see them from
here. Give the girl your robe.”
Will
set his jaw and peeled off his robe. Audrey stared at it like it might bite
her.
“Go
on,” James said. “It ought to cover you straight down to your ankles. Then we
can talk.”
Audrey
grabbed the robe and stuffed her arms into it, like a kid bolting down a
dreaded mouthful of peas. Will watched her, his arms folded across his bare
chest, something between distaste and fascination in his eyes. James suppressed
a smile. Wasn’t that interesting? Will, eternally cool, urbane and
self-possessed Will, with that kind of confused emotion kicking around inside
over a pretty little waitress?
Audrey
cinched the belt tight around her waist and stuffed her hands deep into the
pockets. “I need to change the terms of my employment,” she said.
“You’re
not happy?” Will arched a sardonic brow.
She
glared at him. “Working here was, as you well know, a last resort. One I was
forced into by you and your spoiled, selfish behavior.”
“Point
taken,” James said.
Will
smiled. “I’ll rephrase. You’re not happy with the terms we worked out to our
mutual satisfaction just last week?”
Audrey
fixed her eyes on James, ignored Will completely. “Circumstances have changed,”
she said. “I’m requesting room and board for me and Jillian. With a
correspondingly adjusted salary, of course.”
“Of
course,” James murmured. “Do you mind if I ask why?”
“My
previous living arrangements recently became...untenable,” she said.
“Untenable
how?” Will asked. Damn, James thought. With the bare chest and the air of
command, his brother was coming perilously close to the territory Yul Brenner
had staked out in
The King and I
. But it was a fair question, so when
Audrey looked to him, he let it stand.
“We
were staying with a woman I worked with at the strip club you guys like so much,
but her boyfriend...didn’t care for the arrangement.”
Interesting,
James thought. “Didn’t care for your not sleeping with him?” he asked.
Audrey
gave him a grim smile. “Something like that.”
“I
know what James is paying you, Audrey,” Will said. “Don’t tell me you can’t
afford not to shack up with strippers and their scumbag boyfriends.”
She
cast him a disdainful look. “There are extenuating circumstances.”
“Such
as?” There Will went with the eyebrow again. Audrey looked like she wanted to
tear it off with her bare hands. But again, it was a good question so he let it
go.
“Jillian
has...special needs,” she finally said.
James
tipped his head. “Looked bright enough to me.”
“She
is. More than enough. Way more. Her IQ is in the 180s, which in case you were
wondering is about 40 points north of genius.”
“But?”
“But
she doesn’t talk.”
“At
all?”
Audrey
shook her head. “She used to. She still writes and reads, though. Lord, does
she read. She blew through the entire Harry Potter series in about an hour last
week.” She hunched her shoulders. “But she doesn’t talk.”
“Why
not?”
“I
don’t know.”
“How
could you not know?” Will asked. James looked up, surprised at the harshness of
his tone. “I mean seriously,” he went on. “An eight-year-old kid with a genius
IQ suddenly stops talking and you don’t know why? You don’t know what happened?
You were too busy slinging drinks to
notice
?”
“Jesus,
Will,” James put a hand out toward Audrey. “I’m so sorry, Audrey. I don’t know
what gets into him sometimes. You’d never know it to look at my brother here
but we were raised better than that. Will, I think you owe the lady an
apology.”
“Hell,
no,” Will said. “I’m on the kid’s side on this one. If anybody’s getting an
apology, it ought to be her.” He fixed Audrey with a hard look. “And it ought
to come from her mother.”
“You’re
damn straight,” Audrey said, her eyes bright and burning. “The minute I find
her, I’ll demand one. Until then, do you think you could keep your judgment to
yourself for ten stinking minutes so I can deal with your brother on getting the
child a more stable home life?”
“I
think,” James said into the vibrating silence that followed, “we’d best start
at the beginning.”
The
following Sunday evening Will watched Bel carry a roasted chicken into the
formal dining room where Team Blake/West would receive its weekly judgment. She
set it on the table with an air of reverence, as if a well laid table and a
platter full of meat was something sacred.
Which,
okay, it probably was. Especially a chicken like this one. Dark and glossy with
some sort of maple glaze, giving off a smell that was hospitality itself, it practically
demanded that a guy sit down, give thanks and dig in. It was invitation,
welcome and generosity, all wrapped up in one delicious, oven-roasted package.
A
package Will would have accepted quite happily had it not been for the palpable
disdain being laser beamed across the table toward him by Audrey Bing. A
disdain that should have completely and mercifully erased the awful want this
woman had stirred up in his gut. Should have, but didn’t.
At
all.
Evidently,
she was still pissed about his assumption that she was not only a mother but a
crappy one at that. And unfortunately for Will, she was turning out to be a
world-champion grudge holder.
