Winning Wyatt (The Billionaire Brotherhood Book 1) (15 page)

“No,
sir,” she said sweetly, before turning to answer the previous question.
“Enderley is my married name, ma’am.”

“You’re
divorced?” His mother appeared taken aback by the information.

“No,
ma’am.” Kara paused to sip her ice water. “My maiden name is Sherman.”

Reactions
varied around the table. The older generation seemed to be stunned, but Allie,
Buck, Chase, and Chloe, like Wyatt, all bit back smiles.

“You’re
not descended from that general who ruined the South, are you?” Rosalie
demanded.

“I
doubt it,” Kara said. “Grandfather Sherman emigrated from Germany before the
second World War. He married a girl from Nebraska, but died soon after my
father was born, so we don’t know much about that side of the family.”

“We
can trace the Wyatt family back to the early 1800s.” Rosalie delicately dabbed
her lips with a cloth napkin.

“How
nice for you,” Kara said, placing her fork on her plate.

Wyatt
didn’t intend to let his mother don her cloak of Southern aristocracy. “That’s
true. The first Wyatt that came over from Ireland left there in a hurry, didn’t
he, Mother? Kind of a rascal with an unusual occupation. What was it again?
Pickpocket? Forger? Something like that.”

Rosalie’
complexion paled. “None of that was ever confirmed. And whatever his faults, he
made a fresh start of it here in Georgia and became quite successful.”

Talk
generalized again for a few moments until his mother suggested they move to the
parlor for coffee and dessert.

Returning
to the parlor from the powder room, Kara happened to eavesdrop on an awkward
conversation between Wyatt and his nephew. Not only was she interested in
hearing how Wyatt handled the situation, she also welcomed having a few moments
to herself. When her every move wouldn't be scrutinized by all the Wyatts and
Wyatt-wannabees. Wyatt had deflected the direct attacks, but she was beginning
to feel a little battle-weary nevertheless. And she didn't welcome the idea of
returning to the parlor without him.

Seeing
Wyatt in his own element was a revelation she wouldn’t have missed. His home
and background were clearly the source of the self-confidence and assurance he
carried around with him as unconsciously as Kara carried a purse.

Wyatt
knew who he was and where he came from. And that knowledge, along with good
looks, intelligence, and wealth had been served up to him on a silver platter
at birth.

He
might profess annoyance about the repayment his birthright demanded, but he
relied on the benefits more than he realized.

Glancing
up from his conversation with Xander, he acknowledged her presence with a nod.
Her heart thumped erratically in response to the pleasure that leaped to his
eyes at the sight of her. He took leave of his nephew with a suggestion that the
two of them get together in the coming weeks. Following Xander’s indifferent
agreement, Wyatt removed a flask from the desk drawer and slipped it into his
coat pocket.

“He’s
a tough little guy, isn’t he?” She linked her fingers through Wyatt’s.

“Too
tough for me.” Wyatt opened an exterior door, guiding Kara onto a terrace
overlooking the swimming pool. “You were right about him,” he said as they
strolled in the moonlight. “I had no idea how troubled a boy that age can be.”

She
tried to read his eyes in the shadows. “How can you be a teacher and understand
so little about teenagers?”

“I
teach at the college level,” he explained, “because eighteen is the age of
reason. Younger than that, and they seldom have an original thought in their
heads.”

Kara
drew in a deep breath. Everywhere she'd been in Georgia, there had been an
underlying floral fragrance. These lush gardens and grounds were no exception.
She tried to identify some of the scents. Magnolia, and jasmine, definitely.
Honeysuckle, perhaps.

“How
are you holding up?” Wyatt draped an arm around her shoulder. “Is Mother
getting to you?”

“Not
really. I understand what she’s doing. Not why, but that’s okay. After I leave
on Sunday, I won’t ever have to see her again.”

 
Before they reached the front doors leading
into the house he took Kara into his arms and pressed a kiss on her lips. “I’ve
been wanting to do that for hours.” His hands stroked down her back to her hips
then moved even lower.

Despite
the little flutter that encouraged her to continue, Kara forced herself to step
away from him. “Stop that.” She had to pretend outrage or end up melting in his
arms. “You don’t want to be caught with your hands down my dress by your
mother, do you?”

Wrapping
an arm around Kara’s waist, he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I learned
some of my best techniques in the pool house. Want to see?”

“I
don’t want to hear any more about your previous conquests than I’ve already
heard.” She ruined the statement by adding with a wink, “Maybe we can come back
out after while and you can demonstrate.”

The
scene inside the parlor depicted Kara’s impression of Southern living at its
finest. Chloe and Chase sat side by side on the piano bench, with Rosalie and
Chase's mother nearby. A statuesque woman with an intricate coronet of salt and
pepper braids circulated the room with a dessert tray. The friendly smile she
flashed Wyatt confirmed Kara’s assumption that she was Izzy. Jonah mixed drinks
at the bar.

Wyatt
steered Kara over to meet the cook. With an arm around both women, he
introduced them. Izzy’s coffee-colored face beamed with pleasure, but she sent
them to be seated while she brought them each slices of the pie Wyatt raved
about.

Kara
sampled a bite and had a hard time refraining from smacking her lips. “Just
like Wyatt said, this is the best lemon meringue pie I've ever tasted.”

“Mr.
Wyatt's partial to that recipe.” Izzy stood straighter and beamed from the
compliment. “I always make his favorites when he’s home.”

“Don’t
spoil him, Izzy.” Jackson Wyatt took the chair on Kara’s other side. “He’s not
here often enough to truly appreciate you. If you want to be baking extra pies,
you just send them over to my house.”

Izzy
laughed and promised to do just that before she resumed her duties. Kara was
sandwiched between Wyatt and his uncle, who proceeded to talk around her while
she consumed her dessert and quelled an unladylike desire to lick her plate.

Jackson
sipped bourbon from a heavy crystal glass. “I know you said you’d go to
Charlotte with your mother on Monday, but before you leave, I really would like
your help with that problem at National.”

“I’ll
fit it in as soon as I can, Uncle Jack.”

“I
didn’t know you participated this much in your family’s business,” Kara said to
Wyatt.

“Not
in the day-to-day details,” Jackson answered, “but he has a keen business sense
and such a diplomatic manner of speaking that he can persuade just about anyone
to do as he pleases without them ever realizing they’ve been handled by a
master.”

“I’ve
noticed that about him.”

“And
you know, he hates having people talk about him like he's one of the paintings
on the wall,” Wyatt complained.

Wyatt
gave Kara an intimate smile and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His
touch lingered against her skin, making her a clear promise for later. “I
thought you had that trucking problem all smoothed over,” he said to his uncle.

“I
want to be sure it’s fixed good and proper, not just patched up. We’ll be in a
pickle if the whole mess breaks open again next year when it’s time for their
contract negotiations.”

“Who’s
the spokesperson for the truckers?”

“Sal
Farley, remember him? He’s a good man, but he’s threatening us with labor
problems that can shut NPD down for months if we're not careful.”

Kara
set her plate down sharply. The lemon flavoring on her tongue turned bitter at
the mention of the hated company. “NPD?”

“National
Package Delivery,” Jackson said. “You know, the parcel delivery company with
the blue-and-white trucks?”

To
keep her hands from shaking, she clasped them in her lap. “But, wh-what—?” Her
throat closed, and she had to start over. “What does NPD have to do with you,
Wyatt?”

“We
own it.” He reached for her hand, but she pulled away. “Are you all right?”

Her
vision started to fade around the edges. She jumped to her feet, but her knees
wouldn’t cooperate, and she collapsed back onto the seat. Shrinking from the
arm Wyatt placed around her, Kara looked wildly about the room, searching for a
helping hand that didn’t belong to a Wyatt or a Maitland. Allie and Buck came
to hover in front of her.

“Can
I get you something, Kara?” Allie asked.

Lightheaded
now, all Kara could think about was getting out of the enemy's camp. “I need to
leave.”

“What
is it, Wyatt?” Rosalie demanded from across the room.

“Kara
isn’t feeling well, Mother.”

“Was
it something she ate?” Chloe asked. “I hope it wasn’t the crab puffs. I had
three of those.”

Buck
knelt at her side and placed a hand on her neck. “Put your head between your
knees.”

“Will
you get me out of here?” she whispered while her head dangled upside down.

“Sure,”
he answered, puzzled but agreeable.

As
she tried to stand, her knees crumpled again. Buck caught her and lifted her
up.

“What
are you doing?” Allie and Wyatt both demanded.

“She
asked me to get her out of here.” Buck held her in his arms with the ease of a
man who rescued fainting damsels every day.

“Give
her to me,” Wyatt insisted.

“No,”
Kara objected. “Don’t.”

Buck
gave her an apologetic shrug before handing her over.

She
shrank from Wyatt’s touch. “Put me down.”

“Can
you stand on your own?”

She
could. She’d make herself. “Just put me down.”

Wyatt
slowly lowered her legs, retaining as much of her weight as he could with his
grip on her shoulders. She was quite possibly over-reacting, but she was
smothering in an avalanche of emotion. She didn’t want his help. She didn’t
want him to touch her.

Ever
again.

“I
want to leave now.” Her mind began to fog, and darkness crowded in on her. She
struggled to retain control, but tragic memories slammed relentlessly into her.
The sooner she could get away, the better.

“All
right.” Wyatt’s voice came to her from far, far away. “But you're as white as a
sheet.”

The
next thing she knew, she was stretched out on a strange bed in an unfamiliar
room. Her shoes were gone. A cold cloth draped her forehead. Dim light and
absolute quiet surrounded her, but she knew before she turned her head that she
would find Wyatt sitting there beside her. Watching her. Her eyelids slammed
shut, automatically rejecting the sight of him. He reached for her hand.

She
jerked her hand away and turned her face to the wall. “Please, don't touch me.
I can’t stand it.”

“What
is it, Kara?” His words gentled with his concern for her. Taking her chin in
his hand he turned it so he could see her. “What’s happened in the last few
minutes to make you dislike me so?”

“I
just realized.” Tears streamed down her face. “You’re responsible for Mike’s
and Adam’s deaths.”

The
accusation rocked Wyatt backward. Of all the things he had considered, that one
came out of the blue. “I’m what?”

“Responsible
for the death of Mike and Adam.”

For
the second time that night, he was uncertain what to do or say. Wyatt tried to
recall the details about her family’s fatal accident. He moved to sit on the
edge of the bed. “Kara, you’re not making sense. You told me they were killed
in an accident.”

“They
were.”

He
placed a hand on each side of her head and leaned in toward her. “I’m not sure
I’ve ever been to Indiana.”

She
placed her hands over her face, as if unable to bear the sight of him. Wyatt
couldn’t remain idle while such intense pain ravaged her. He lay down beside
her and pulled her into his arms, offering solace the only way he knew how. She
strained against him at first, but with gentle words and soothing hands, he
stroked her until she quieted.

“Tell
me what this is about, Kara mia, so I can help you.”

“You
can’t help me.” Her eyes were wild, desperate as she looked at him, and then
away. He pushed her hair back from her face and wiped her damp cheeks with a
corner of the

sheet.
“Just tell me.”

She
closed her eyes as if that would help her gather her strength. “A truck smashed
through the guardrail of an exit ramp on the interstate and plowed into Mike
and Adam on the road below. A National Package Delivery truck.”

Nothing
she could have said would have been less welcome. He wanted to deny it, to
defend his family, but she wasn’t ready to listen to logic. Still, the
connection between him and the accident seemed so far-removed. He had so little
to do with the delivery service. “And you blame us for it? My family? Me?”

She
did. Of course, she did. No amount of logic would penetrate her emotional state
at the moment. Someone had to be blamed. He could see it in her eyes. Weakly,
she pushed against his shoulders to gain her release. “I want to go home now.”

A
light tap sounded on the door. Wyatt went to open it while Kara sat up and put
on her shoes.

“How
is she?” Allie asked.

“Better.”
Now wasn’t the time for details.

“What
can I do?”

“She
wants to leave. If you'll give us a few minutes to slip out the back and then
explain to Mother, I’d appreciate it.”

“Doc
Wilson is on his way. Are you sure she shouldn’t see him first?”

“Thanks,
Allie, but no,”

“I
just want to leave,” Kara said from the bed.

“Then
let’s go.” Wyatt turned and reached for her, but she tugged away. With a sigh,
he gestured her out ahead of him.

Her
silence as they returned to the hotel conveyed a clearer message than most
speeches.

In
their suite, she went straight to the bedroom and retrieved her luggage.
Without facing him, she began packing her clothes. Wyatt watched from the doorway,
once again, at a loss.

“What
are you doing?”

Her
spine stiffened. She rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms as if her blood
had stopped circulating and she had to stimulate it manually. “I’m leaving.”

Leaning
against the door with his hands in his pockets, he shook his head. “We need to
talk first.”

“And
say what?” With erratic jerks, she moved around the room, from one object to
another, lifting things, replacing them, tossing them aside. She reminded him
of a small tornado creating chaos in its wake and veering off-course without
warning. “That your family owns NPD, but bears no culpability for the actions
of its employees? That the settlement your family gave me absolves them from
guilt? That you weren’t the one driving the truck so it's not your fault?” She
scooped an armload of lotions and gels from the sink in the bathroom and
dropped them in the suitcase with a clatter. “Well, guess what? I know all
those things, but they don’t make me feel a damn bit better.”

Suddenly
out of steam, she collapsed into a heap on the floor. More quietly, she
continued, “It always seemed like there should be someone to blame. I blamed
Mike for not being more cautious, for not taking better care of Adam. I blamed
God for the weather. I blamed myself for not picking up Adam. But most of all,
I focused the blame on NPD and the driver.”

Folding
her arms across her knees, she dropped her forehead onto them. “He’d had a beer
at lunch, maybe more than one. How much did that hinder his judgment? What kind
of company would allow a drunk driver to make deliveries? Maybe the kind that
insists schedules be met despite hazardous weather conditions. Or the kind that
would fail to properly maintain their trucks.”

Her
arms covered her face, but didn’t muffle her bitterness. “I can’t put this
anger and resentment behind me just because we’ve had amazing sex.”

“Kara...”
Wyatt knelt beside her and pulled her into his arms, despite her stiff
resistance. “I’m so sorry. I’ll find out the answers to your questions as soon
as I can, but we both know nothing I do or say will ever be enough.”

They
looked at one another, and Wyatt saw the painful truth in her eyes. The sadness
and despair acknowledged how much they’d lost during the course of the evening.
A loss that left no room for forgiveness. Wiping her eyes and sniffling, she
moved away from him. “I can’t stay here with you.”

“I’ll
sleep in the other room.” He would give her as much time and space as she
needed. “If you still want to leave in the morning, I’ll make the
arrangements.”

Kara
nodded, rose, and went into the bathroom. Wyatt found extra pillows in the
closet. No point in calling housekeeping to convert the couch into a bed. He
didn’t expect to sleep.

Early
the next morning, Wyatt watched Kara sleep fitfully in the middle of the
king-sized bed. He doubted if she’d welcome his comfort, but he sat beside her
and patted her back until she quieted, and unknowingly, curled her body toward
him.

With
every fiber of his being, he wanted to stay with her, to erase her pain, to be
there for her when she awoke. But he couldn’t bear to see that awful look of
accusation on her face again. He straightened her covers and eased away from her,
returning to the next room.

Less
than an hour later, Kara stepped tentatively into the sitting room, wearing a
long cotton T-shirt. Purple smudges under her eyes gave her the damaged look of
a bruised pansy.

“Did
you sleep?” He set aside his laptop, where every article he’d read had jumbled
together.

Her
hair floated in an unrestrained mass around her face. She reached up to shove
it out of her way. “Not much. You?”

“Not
at all.” He groped for a way to close the breech between them, but nothing
special came to mind. “Would you like breakfast?”

“No,
thank you.” Her voice sounded as controlled and impersonal as a computerized
recording. “I just want to—”

“—leave,”
he finished for her. “So you keep saying. I hoped you’d feel differently this
morning.”

“I
don’t.”

He
slumped back, feeling helpless. Defeated by her stubbornness and unwilling to
add to her pain. “If you’re so determined to leave, I'll have the corporate jet
prepared to take you whenever you’re ready.”

Her
mouth curled in distaste. “I’ll go to the airport and wait until I can get a
flight. I don’t want to ride on an NPD plane or accept any further favors from
you.”

“When
did you ever want to?” She asked him for less than any woman he’d ever known.
“I brought you here, I’ll see you get home. At least let me do that much.”

“To
ease your conscience?”

“My
conscience is clear,” he returned evenly. “I’m just trying to make this easier
for you.”

“Nothing
about this will ever be easy.” Her gray eyes turned stormy. “I just want to put
it behind me and forget it ever happened.”

Her
words cut him like a knife. “Do you really want to put me and everything we’ve
shared behind you? You once said I gave you your life back.”

“I
didn’t know!” She flinched with the hollow-eyed look of someone who'd been
betrayed one time too many. “You’re the one who took it away.”

“You
don’t believe that.”

“In
my head, I don’t. In my heart, I do. Remembering the last few months makes me
feel like I’ve been sleeping with the enemy. I’m sorry, but I can’t be with you
anymore.”

The
future he had envisioned of bringing Kara for long stays in California,
visiting her in New York, and meeting her for weekend getaways anyplace in
between crumbled like one of Izzy’s pie crusts. As she walked away from him, he
grabbed her arm and turned her to face him.

“Let
me ask you one question. Did you file suit against NPD at the time of the
accident?”

She
tried to shrug away from him. “Why would I have done that? For more money? I
couldn’t deal with reliving it through legal proceedings that would drag on for
months, maybe years. In the end, Mike and Adam would still be dead, the wounds
would still be fresh, and I would still be alone.”

“Don’t
you know by now that hiding from something doesn’t end it?” He took her chin in
his hand to make sure she heard each word. “I’ll look at NPD's records and find
out if there’s any truth to your accusations. For good or bad, I’ll call you
when I know what occurred. Maybe when you’ve had time to think, you’ll see
things differently. Or at least be able to separate the past from the present.”
  

The
anguish in her eyes cut him to the quick. She wrenched away. “Why don’t you
just let me go?”

“Letting
you go whenever you want was always part of the deal, Kara mia. But we agreed there
wouldn’t be any regrets or recriminations between us.” He shook his head sadly.
“And now that’s all you have left.”