Forgotten Father (3 page)

Further inspection found no evidence of their
encounter left behind, no small evening purse or tangle of earrings
on the dresser.

He glanced at the dresser again. No note, either. It
was as if he’d made her up, actually dreamed her.

Sinking back onto the bed where she’d lain, Mitchell
picked up her pillow and pressed his face against the white linen.
No. He hadn’t imagined her. Her clean, teasing scent clung still to
the fabric.

Curious as to why she’d disappeared, Mitchell
comforted himself with the reflection that finding her wouldn’t be
difficult. A large sprawling Victorian-era resort, The Cedars had
recently been restored to it’s earlier grandeur, but it wasn’t yet
open to the public.

The only people here now were those invited to the
re-opening festivities. How hard could it be to locate one
breathtakingly sexy redhead in such a small group?

And he very much wanted to locate her. Never in his
life had he known a woman so…intimately, so totally. He couldn’t
begin to define what she’d given him, couldn’t put into words how
powerfully he’d been impacted by her combination of innocence and
sensuality. Her complete surrender.

She seemed like no other woman he’d known.

In the meantime, however, he needed to get on with
his purpose for coming to The Cedars. If Lanie Carlyle thought she
had a shot at marrying Donovan Riese’s money, she was deluding
herself.

Stepping into the shower, Mitchell grimly considered
everything he’d heard about the woman from his besotted
grandfather. In her mid-twenties, she was the interior designer
Donovan had chosen to handle the refurbishing of The Cedars.

Despite the fact that the resort was only one small
part of the Riese holdings, The Cedars held a corner of Donovan’s
heart. Their family had built the place a hundred years before and
his grandfather spent many a school vacation chasing girls here.
Donovan and his now-deceased wife had spent their honeymoon at The
Cedars when the place was long past its first glory.

For a multitude of reasons, the old resort held his
grandfather in its grip and Lanie Carlyle had somehow gotten
associated with that passion. From what Mitchell had seen, she’d
done an excellent job in restoring the place, but that didn’t give
her the right to help herself to the Riese millions.

For the past two years, Mitchell had listened to his
grandfather singing the woman’s praises. She’d maneuvered her way
into the older man’s confidence through their shared interest in
the resort and quickly leeched onto him with all the vigor of a
woman inspired by the opportunity to marry money. Despite the fact
that he was three times her age.

Then the checks started. Paid out of company
accounts, their fabulous amounts had first alerted Mitchell that
his grandfather was losing objectivity with the woman.

Last week, Donovan had spoken to Mitchell on the
phone about deeding a portion of The Cedars to her. That’s when
Mitchell had known he had to take action.

She was welcome to sleep with a sixty-seven year old
man if that sort of thing floated her boat, but the avariciousness
of her last move made it clear she didn’t care one iota for his
grandfather.

She had to go.

Fifteen minutes later, Mitchell made his way to the
Blue Salon, prepared for battle.

He stepped into the plant-bedecked restaurant,
ignoring the
clink
of cutlery and the
hum
of
breakfast conversation as he scanned the occupied tables, searching
for his grandfather’s gray head.

“Mitch!”

Mitchell turned, seeing Donovan waving from a seat
by the far wall. Threading his way through the tables, Mitchell let
his gaze drift to the woman seated next to Donovan.

She looked back at him, a taunting, mischievous
smile on her beautiful face, her copper hair framing her face in a
smooth arc.

Mitchell felt the blood drain from his head, but he
kept walking, kept moving toward them. The muscles in his face
ached with the effort of keeping his shock out of his
expression.

His
woman sat next to Donovan.

The woman from last night. The same woman who’s
breasts he’d caressed, the one who’s body had clenched around him
in intimate ecstasy…was his grandfather’s mistress.

CHAPTER TWO

Delanie stood up as Mitchell crossed the restaurant,
her stomach fluttering with excitement.

She loved him. More now than when she’d first seen
him across that crowded cocktail party last night.

“Good, he’s seen us,” Donovan said, reaching across
to take her hand, a beaming smile on his face. “I can hardly wait
to introduce you two. You have a lot in common, you and my
grandson.”

More than Donovan could ever know, Delanie thought
irreverently, repressing the urge to giggle.

Not six hours before she’d lain writhing beneath his
grandson, her entire being going up in flames. They’d shared more
than a night of passion, though. Each kiss felt like an exchanging
of souls, each touch like an interconnecting of every part of
themselves.

He was her first true lover. The first man to ever
really touch her heart.

She’d woken this morning filled with a bone-deep
sense of completion…a sense of true security for the first time in
her life. Having found him, at last, everything would now be all
right. All life’s bumps and jolts would be smoothed out just by
knowing he was there beside her, loving her as much as she loved
him.

From that first kiss, she’d known they were as
attuned as two separate people could be.

She’d come awake in his bed at the first dawn,
overwhelmed with a strange shyness. Having shared her body so
completely left her feeling bared to the core. Swamped with how
much she loved him, she’d simply stood next to the bed, watching
him sleep. Then, motivated by that odd bashfulness mixed with a
mischievous awareness that he didn’t yet know her name, she’d
dressed and crept out of his room, wondering how he’d find her.

Knowing he’d find her.

And here he was, pausing on the other side of the
table, staring at her with the chattering, noisy restaurant a
backdrop to their private rediscovery.

“Mitchell,” Donovan said, sliding an arm around
Delanie, “I want you to meet Lanie. She’s been my right hand in
getting The Cedars back to its former glory. I don’t know what I’d
have done without her!”

“Ms. Carlyle,” Mitchell said, shaking the hand she
offered, his face unreadable.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Delanie said with a
wickedly demure smile as her gaze met his. His vivid blue eyes
seemed shuttered, guarded as he greeted her, but the warmth of
their contact seemed to sear the palm of her hand.
Oh, Mitchell,
can you hear the beating of my heart?

He released her hand without comment.

“Let’s sit and eat,” the older man suggested. “I
ordered a little of everything. Doesn’t it look wonderful?”

“Wonderful!” Delanie agreed as they sat down at the
table, “One of the things I love about The Cedars’ chefs is they go
all out for breakfast.”

Across the table, Mitchell shook out his napkin
without word.

Donovan reached over, patting Delanie’s arm
affectionately. “I’ve been wanting you to meet my girl, Mitch.
Lanie really made this project fly. She’s got such good taste. Just
look around you.”

Mitchell glanced at her instead.

Meeting the intensity of his gaze, she couldn’t
resist tweaking her too-solemn lover a little. She said with a
teasing smile, “I just know what I like and when I see it, I go
after it.”

“Do you?” Mitchell asked, watching her intently.
“Always?”

“Yes, always,” she said with a smile, lifting a
succulent strawberry to her lips as her eyes met his.

Like the focusing of the sun beneath a magnifying
glass, she felt the heat of his regard and reveled in it, rejoicing
inside herself.

Here he was at last. Her mate. Her future.

“Did you notice the drapes in the lobby?” Donovan
went on, oblivious to the tension between them. “I never would have
thought of that color combination. All those greens? But it really
works.”

“Very nice,” Mitchell said colorlessly, flicking his
grandfather a frowning glance.

Delanie smoothed the napkin on her lap, her fingers
trembling still from the intensity of their wordless interchange.
She wanted to cast herself into his arms and kiss his beautiful
mouth the way she had last night. But she sensed the constraint in
him, an awkwardness that left her feeling both tender and
amused.

She’d thought immediately that he might have been
hesitant to greet her openly out of respect for his grandfather.
Donovan had to know they’d only come into contact the night before,
but, on further consideration, Delanie didn’t think Mitchell would
be inhibited by his grandfather’s potentially conservative response
to their relationship. Somehow, she knew Mitchell was simply a man
who kept his private feelings private.

Eventually, he’d loosen up. She’d make sure of that,
she thought with humor as she bit into another berry.

He’d almost kissed her in the middle of the party
last night, but that was easily attributable to the power of their
first meeting. And it wasn’t quite the same as openly acknowledging
their couplehood when the thing was still so new, Delanie told
herself.

How could he explain that to his grandfather? How
could they convince anyone of such an immediate intimate
connection? And yet the awkwardness she sensed in Mitchell, the
cool, distant politeness from him, left her wanting to kiss away
his frown.

Was he upset with her for leaving him so early, she
wondered with a piercing tenderness. Had he wanted to wake with her
in his arms?

When she’d tip-toed out while he slept this morning,
she hadn’t expected Donovan to rope her into this breakfast
meeting, hadn’t expected to have to greet her lover again in the
midst of a crowd.

“Did you see the statuary in the formal gardens?”
Donovan demanded, his face full of pride. “Delanie found those. I
wasn’t sure we needed statues outside, but she was right, as
usual.”

“The talented Ms. Carlyle,” Mitchell murmured, not
looking up from the roll he was tearing apart.

“Why thank you, kind sir,” she responded, sending
him a glance under the cover of her lashes.

“You’re welcome,” he said, still attending to the
plate in front of him.

“Now that you’re here, Mitchell,” his grandfather
said, “we can talk about restoring the family villa.”

Mitchell looked up. “I can’t see much purpose in
bothering with that old ruin. At this point, the family only
consists of you and me. I’m sure we can find adequate housing here
at the main building, should we choose to stay at The Cedars.”

“Just because we’re the only family members now,”
Donovan said, suddenly irritated, “doesn’t mean we’ll always be. I
had my honeymoon here. You’ll marry and have children one day and
the villa is great for family vacations.”

“I know,” Mitchell said, a flash of annoyance on his
face. “But you needn’t put the villa restoration into action on my
account. Neither you nor I have any foreseeable need for a
honeymoon spot.”

Barely conscious of the trickle of unease his words
triggered, Delanie focused instead on Donovan who was bristling on
the other side of the table. Seeing the need for an objective point
of view, she reached out a soothing hand, patting his forearm.
Settling fractious egos was one of her specialties.

“Maybe we should look at it differently,” she said
diplomatically. “The villa could really be a wonderful asset.
Situated where it is, just up the hill from the main hotel grounds,
it would be a perfect spot for many purposes. I know of several
corporations who lease exclusive retreats for their senior
executives.”

With the fierce expression still in his eyes,
Donovan protested, “The villa is a Riese family vacation home!”

“I know its historically been reserved for the
family, but you could lease it out part of the time, just when
you’re not using it,” she said with a coaxing smile, weaving her
fingers with his. “Then you could reserve it for when you want it
and it would still be a viable business expense.”

“Well,” the older man said, looking somewhat
mollified, “that does make sense. But I don’t like the thought of
strangers tramping through the place and tearing it up. Tons of
memories there.”

“Of course, you have memories,” she agreed. “But you
wouldn’t be leasing it to just anyone. Between the two of you, you
must have hundreds of contacts, people you know, friends and
business associates, who’d love a chance to stay in such a
beautiful historic house.”

“Historic, maybe,” Mitchell interjected, an edge to
his tone as he watched them from across the table, “but the place
is falling down. I can’t imagine who’d want to stay there.”

Delanie shot him an admonishing glance. Anyone would
think he wanted to upset his grandfather. “Not now maybe, but I can
have it in perfect condition, ready to use, in twelve months.”

Releasing Donovan’s hand, she sent a beguiling smile
Mitchell’s way. “Surely you have business contacts who’d appreciate
being offered such a quiet retreat. It could be an asset for
you.”

“Again, don’t do anything on my account,” Mitchell
said softly, the hiss of drawn swords in his words.

Delanie blinked at the tone, frowning slightly
before she said playfully to his grandfather, “See? This is exactly
what I mean. A harried businessman who needs The Cedars ambiance to
let loose and relax.”

“Yes,” Donovan agreed immediately. “Mitchell works
too hard. He needs to book some relaxing time at the villa
himself.”

“Why don’t we finish breakfast,” Delanie suggested,
shooting a quick glance at Mitchell. “Nothing has to be decided
about the villa right now.”