Leaving Carolina (33 page)

He draws a strident breath. “I’ll consult my attorney and let you know what I decide.”

I can’t expect more from him. “Do.”

He turns back toward the doors as a long shadow falls across the threshold, followed by Axel.

“Well, if it isn’t my uncle’s gardener,” my cousin drawls.

Axel looks at me. “Everything all right, Piper?”

“Of course it is.” Luc claps Axel’s shoulder. “Or don’t you know about my uncle’s dementia?”

In a flash, Axel’s face hardens. In another flash, Luc is gone. As I struggle for an explanation, he strides forward. “You told him.”

“No! He found out.”

“How?”

“I… don’t know. Maybe he broke into your cottage—”

“The day you found the box, I moved it elsewhere to prevent something like this from happening.”

“Something like what?”

“You know what.” He walks away.

He thinks badly of me again—that I’m hatching something with Luc! Fine. I don’t care.
Yes, you do
.

I follow him, pausing only to thank Pastor Stanky. Despite Axel’s uneven stride, I don’t catch up until he’s opening the door of his Jeep. I hurry to the other side and halt at finding the passenger seat empty.

“Where’s Uncle Obe?”

“He accepted an invitation to lunch and asked that I pick him up this afternoon.” Axel inserts the key in the ignition.

I jump in and pull the door closed. “I didn’t tell Luc.” I jerk at the seat belt. “You have to believe me.”

He reverses out of the parking space and puts the car into gear. “Why?”

“Because I wouldn’t do that to my uncle.” I grip his knee, only to snatch my hand away. It’s his prosthetic leg. Not that it bothers me. It just seems like a violation, especially as I’m not sure it actually is his knee. Maybe that’s prosthetic too? Afraid to look at him for what may be on his face, I say lamely, “You know I wouldn’t.”

“I didn’t think you would.” He stares at the road and doesn’t speak again until we’re clear of the Super Wal-Mart. “All right, but he does know, and he’s going to cause problems.” He glances at me. “What else does he know?”

“Nothing. I—” Oops. “He knows about Antonio and Daisy.”

He draws a sharp breath. “You don’t know how he found out about them either?”

Lord, why do I always wait to consult You
after
the fact?
“That blame
is
mine.”

He momentarily takes his eyes off the road.
“You
told him.”

“Only to use as leverage to prevent him from trying to have Uncle Obe declared mentally incompetent. You know, ‘Back off or he’ll leave it all to his children.’”

He looks forward.

“He’s retained an attorney, Axel.”

“I’m sure he has.”

Silence, and I wish it were due to the windy road. Finally, Axel looks at me. “What do you suggest we do?”

“You believe me?”

He looks back at the road, and that jaw muscle, which seems exclusive to alpha males, tics and tenses. “I’ve learned to forgive, but if you’re making a fool of me…”

He leaves it at that, but then silence is a language all its own.

I moisten my lips. “I suggest that we wait and see if Luc takes the threat of disinheritance seriously.”

“What are the chances of that?”

“Good. I think.”

“Let’s pray you’re right.” Axel gives me a smile, albeit forced.

A few minutes later the estate comes into sight, as does the snazzy sports car parked before the gate.

I frown. “Who’s that?”

“We’ll know soon enough.” Axel brakes behind the other car, and it’s apparent the driver has abandoned it.

“Rental car,” Axel says, taking in the license plate.

“Where’s the driver?”

He points to a place beyond the gate. “I would say that’s him.”

I peer up the driveway. And who should be coming down it but Grant?
Oh, Lord
.

A
nother gate climber,” Axel says. “Someone you know?” What is he doing here? “A… um… client.”

“One who knows where your uncle lives?” Axel looks sidelong at me. “That sounds like more than a client.”

And his suspicions are back in full. “Just a client.” I open the door and slide out. As I step between the two vehicles, I hear my name called and look around to see Grant waving as he comes down the driveway.

The gate opens in response to the code I punch in, and I hurry toward Grant, who is as leanly attractive as ever. Though he has started to bald in a way that makes him appear more mature than his thirty-nine years (a plus in politics), it hasn’t hurt his appeal. But then, he does have soulful eyes, great cheekbones, and a two-phase orthodontic smile.

“Piper!” Sunglasses obscure his eyes, and he beams as he nears. I slow but he doesn’t, and suddenly his arms surround me (very unclientlike), his face lowers (highly unclientlike), and his mouth comes in for a landing (exceedingly unclientlike).

I turn aside to break off the kiss. “Grant! What are you—?”

“I’ve missed you.”

He never missed me this much before. What is going on? And
what must Axel think?
And please, Lord, don’t let that undercover reporter be anywhere near
.

Grant starts to lower his head again, but I press a hand to his chest. “You’re making no sense.”

He removes his sunglasses and hooks them on the neck of his shirt. “Actually, I’m making more sense than I have in weeks.”

“Not to me.”

His brow develops a minor furrow, usually reserved to express concern for his constituents. “This doesn’t feel right?”

I pull back, and he releases me. “What are you doin’ here?”

He blinks. “Did you just drawl?”

Oh no.

“You sounded a bit Southern.”

“Well, technically, I am.” I wave a dismissing hand. “What happened with the tire tycoon’s daughter?”

A flick of his eyebrows erases his frown. “We should have dug deeper into Penelope’s past.”

She has secrets too? Something worse than being a Pickwick? Of course, I never got around to telling him about Lady Godiva.

“At seventeen, she ran away with her boyfriend and joined a radical cult—the kind that uses firearms and bombs to get their point across. Fortunately, her father tracked her down and had her extricated.”

My jaw slackens. “Extricated? Sounds dangerous.”

He holds up a hand. “The press doesn’t know. I uncovered it on my own.”

Janet Farr/Jane Farredy, you are after the wrong story—thankfully
. “How did you uncover it?”

“She told me. She didn’t want to get any more serious until I knew about her past.”

“That was honest of her.” Though I had intended to tell him about the last piece
of my
past when I thought I was still in his future, this young woman has one up on me.

“It’s too bad,” Grant says almost to himself, and something like distress spasms across his face.

Maybe the kiss they shared in the park was more than a photo op.

He sighs. “In every other way she was perfect.”

And he has to do what’s best for his career and constituents. I just hope that Penelope didn’t have strong feelings for him.

He sheds his melancholy with a shake of his shoulders. “We received good press as a couple and diced that rumor, but my numbers weren’t much higher with Penelope than they were when I was seeing you.”

I know all about those numbers because I’ve stayed on top of his publicity.

“So here I am.” Grant spreads his arms wide.

I shift my jaw. “Have you forgotten that I’m a Pickwick?”

He lowers his arms. “That’s problematic, but we can work around it. After all, one is hardly responsible for being born into a particular family. And it’s not as if you have anything sordid to hide yourself.”

Don’t I?

A groan sounds, and I turn to see the gate opening. Though I don’t recall hearing it close, it must have.

Axel steps through. “Would you mind moving your car? I need to get up the hill.”

“Certainly,” Grant says as I turn back the way I came. He comes alongside me. “Who is that?”

“My uncle’s godson.”

“And you were with him?”

I don’t care for his accusing tone. “He gave me a ride home from church.”

“Oh? Considering the state of the road I took out of town, my guess is that’s considerably out of his way.”

“He lives here on the estate.”

He gives a “hmm” of judgmental proportion. “Living off his doddering old godfather, then.”

Doddering? Okay, I’m offended. And what right does he have to pass judgment on Axel? He doesn’t even know—! Neither did I, and yet I thought the same thing when Artemis told me about him.

“Probably sucking the old man dry,” Grant murmurs as we near the gate.

I shoot him a dirty look. “No, he isn’t. He’s my uncle’s gardener.”

Grant opens his mouth, then shuts it as we’ve almost reached Axel, who is punching in the code to keep the gate from retracting. With a low whistle, Grant slides the sunglasses onto his face.

Axel’s eyes have taken on that distinctly un-Blue cast. Doubtless, he saw the kiss that appears to make a lie of my claim that I’m no longer in a relationship. “Uh… this is Grant Spangler, and…”

Grant thrusts a hand at Axel. “U.S. Congressman Grant Spangler. Piper’s fiancé.”

What?! But I… we’re not… Oh no, what does Axel think? And after what happened with Luc? This could be bad.
Lord, did You not see me at church today?

With a flick of his gaze that is colder than I’ve ever felt, even when I was last dumbstruck and didn’t deny that his prosthetic leg bothered me, Axel accepts Grant’s handshake. “Axel Smith.”

“The gardener.” Grant releases him and slides his hands into his pants pockets. “That’s one fine mow job. I’m always amazed at how you guys do it—all those nice diagonal rows.”

I catch my breath. I’ve never known Grant to be demeaning to those whose collars are other than white, but I’m pretty sure that is what’s going on.

I look to Axel, hoping to communicate with my eyes how sorry I am, but he’s also staring at the majestic expanse of lawn.

“I suppose it comes naturally to some people,” Axel says. “Perhaps you should give it a try. You might be a natural yourself.”

“I don’t mind getting my hands dirty when it’s called for, but I’m more a suit-and-tie kind of guy. Best to leave stuff like this”—Grant pans a hand at the landscape—“to the professionals.”

And I thought
I
was a snob. Still, if one didn’t know the true color of Axel’s eyes, they would never guess he’s anything but congenial toward my “fiancé.” And what is that about anyway?

“Well, sorry for blocking you,” Grant says. “When no one responded to the intercom, I thought it might not be working, so I hopped the gate.”

And from the looks of his outfit, he was more successful than I—no snags or rust marks.

Grant retrieves my hand. “Thank you for giving Piper a ride back. I’ll take her up to the estate from here.” As he pulls me toward the gate, I struggle to piece myself back to some semblance of Piper Pickwick—I mean, Wick!

“Hey!” Grant looks over his shoulder. “That gate isn’t going to close on me, is it?” He pats the sports car’s fender. “Wouldn’t want to put a scratch on this beauty.”

“It’s set to remain open,” Axel says, and I hear the hitch in his step as he follows.

A moment later Grant hands me into the car and closes the door. And I feel how a purse that has just been snatched would feel if it had feelings—Oh!

As Grant slides in, I jump out. “I left my purse in the Jeep. Be right back.”

Axel is in his seat when I pull open the passenger door. “Axel, I—”

He holds up a hand. “I told you I don’t like being made a fool of.”

I lean farther in. “He’s not my fiancé. He’s my client, and though we did talk marriage, we never made it to the engagement stage.”

“He’s the one you were engaged to be engaged to?”

“Were
. For the past two weeks, he’s been dating someone else, which was going well until he learned of the woman’s past and decided he and I are on again. We aren’t.”

“Why did he say you are?”

“I…” I shrug. “Maybe he’s jealous of you?”

Axel glances at the sports car. “Does he have reason to be?”

What am I supposed to say? That I would have preferred that Grant’s kiss was Axel’s?

That is the truth
.

But Grant is more in line with the man I’ve always imagined myself marrying.

Maybe you’ve been in the wrong line
.

But the line to Axel leads to Pickwick.

So?

So?! I don’t belong in Pickwick.

You belong in L.A.?

I…well…

“I shouldn’t have asked such a hard question,” Axel says tightly.

“No! It’s just that Grant is a highly valued client, and if I lose him…” I splay my hands in a pitifully helpless gesture that would make Piper Wick cringe. “I’m already in hot water with my partners for being gone so long.”

Axel nods. “And you can only rock the boat so much before it starts taking on water.” He slides on his sunglasses. “Maybe you need to learn to swim, Piper.”

“Axel—”

“Whether you’re just compromising yourself or this is another of your PR schemes to make sure
I
don’t rock the boat by telling your uncle my feelings about your philanthropy idea, I’m not swallowing it anymore. And if you and Luc are—”