Reunited in Love

Chapter Seven

KERRI OPENED HER EYES. The unfamiliar bedroom was pitch-dark, but there was a delicious smell of eggs, bacon and sausages drifting in from the kitchen. The clock on the bedside table read 9:35. Her gaze traveled to the windows, and she groaned. Black-out curtains. No wonder she hadn’t woken up earlier.

Good lord. She never slept this late. On the other hand, she never slept with a man as physical as Ethan. She knew the previous late-night lovemaking hadn’t been a dream. How could he have wanted her so often? He seemed insatiable, and his desire affected her as well. She found herself craving his body nearly all the time.


It had to be the incredible way he could bring her to an orgasm or two or three or four. What woman wouldn’t like that?

She turned. The pillow next to hers was rumpled, which meant Ethan had spent the night in her bedroom. That wouldn’t do. Next time she should make sure to have sex in his room, so she could go back to hers afterward.

Assuming she could stay awake long enough.

The rich aroma of coffee gradually insinuated itself into the olfactory mix, and she rose to her feet. Definitely time to get up.

Despite the minor hiccup, maybe sharing the penthouse wasn’t such a bad idea, especially if she got treated to gourmet coffee every morning. There’d been a toady analyst in Hong Kong who’d brought her a venti frappuccino with caramel and whipped cream at seven-thirty sharp every day in a sad attempt to suck up. She didn’t miss him—he wasn’t the brightest—but she missed the Starbucks service.

She stretched, put on a robe and padded outside. Ethan was pouring a cup of coffee. “Morning. Want some?”

“Definitely.”

He slid the steaming mug across and got himself another. “How did you sleep?”

She smiled. “Very well, thank you.” Almost too well.

She eyed the pile of food on the table. He seemed so energized and light-hearted. She took a sip of the coffee. Not as rich as a frappuccino, but definitely gourmet. Needed a little sugar, but… She sighed. No point in dwelling on what she couldn’t have.

“Good?” Ethan asked.

“Mm.” She pulled her tablet from the purse she’d left on one of the stools by the counter. This was a familiar routine—checking the market while enjoying her coffee and what other minor morning vices she could come up with.

He gently took the gadget from her hand. “No work before brekky, as they say in the UK.”

She looked at him sourly. “I wasn’t working.”

He glanced at the screen. “Hmm. Market data. Market analysis. Market news. Looks like work to me.”

“It’s not.”

“Kerri. When a woman who screamed my name five times the night before ignores me at breakfast and hides behind a gadget, it’s kind of irritating.”

She opened her mouth and then shut it again. There was no arguing with that, and most likely his family didn’t allow anybody to stare at mobile devices at the table either. Hers hadn’t cared what she did as long as she made herself invisible.

He placed a full plate in front of her. “Thank you. So. You seem to be adjusting well to the time difference.”

“It’s not that bad. I don’t really have a consistent sleeping pattern.” She eyed the eggs. “Are these real?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t eat fake eggs.”

“I mean…are they low-calorie, low-fat substitute?”

“Absolutely not. Why?”

“Oh, nothing,” she said automatically.

“You don’t like eggs?”

“I prefer low-fat yogurt for breakfast.” If she said that about a hundred times, it might actually become true. Then she added, “And fresh fruit.”

“You don’t have to pretend you’re one of those ‘salad and water’ types.”

“Beg pardon?”

“I have it on good authority that you, in fact, love bacon and eggs. And sausage. Not to mention bagels laden with full-fat cream cheese.”

Damn it. Natalie had obviously ratted her out. “Well, yeah, okay…but I’m watching my cholesterol,” she said finally. Her chest felt tight, like she was speaking of something that ought to be kept secret.

“I don’t have any yogurt at the moment, but I can pick some up. In the meantime, a couple of eggs won’t kill you. As for the bacon and sausages, don’t worry. I’ll be happy to eat them for you.”

“Okay.” She sat at the table. It was nothing compared to the kind of heart-killing stuff she used to shovel into her mouth in Hong Kong.

Totally unfair. If she had to have a crappy liver, she should at least have titanium arteries that never got clogged.

He sat next to her rather than across the table as she expected. His big body made her feel a little crowded despite the spacious kitchen and dining area. Or maybe it was just his presence that loomed, filling every empty space with that inviting heat that was uniquely his. It promised, “Lean on me, depend on me, and know I’ll keep you safe.” She knew it was just an illusion that she wanted to believe. No matter how independent she strived to be, there were times when she wanted to close her eyes and rest her head against a broad, strong shoulder, attached to an even broader and stronger man who would fight the world for her.

“So since it’s Sunday, what are your plans?” she asked, tasting the eggs. “Another business meeting while you order me not to work?”

“Nope. I’m going to see my mom.”

“Do you see her often?”

“As much as work allows, which isn’t that much. But I need to talk to her face-to-face this time.”

“Because of the company.”

“A bit, but mainly because of the CEO.”

She searched for any signs of worry, but he seemed utterly relaxed, his shoulders and arms loose. “Have fun.”

“I will. Don’t work, even though I know you’re going to ignore that the second I walk out the door.”

“Then why say it?”

“Hope springs eternal.”

After breakfast, she loaded everything in the dishwasher and watched him go out in a casual shirt and jeans. Whatever problem The Lloyds Development had couldn’t be something as simple as the CEO disappearing. If it were, he wouldn’t have felt the need to inform his mother.

She tossed herself on the couch, her tablet clutched in her hand. Google yielded very little. She should’ve known better. There were layers of truths when it came to wealthy families.

There was the public layer, the one that petty gossipmongers, magazines and blogs reported on. What little truth remained was usually buried under a heaping pile of crap, and sorting truth and crap could be difficult if you didn’t know the players involved.

Then there was the acquaintance layer. A few more truths, seen through a strong lens of personal taste. If the person retelling the story liked the people involved, the tale would be warm, gentle, almost Disney fairytale-like. If not, all bets were off and the gossip would resemble the nastiest of Grimm’s fairytales.

The friends and family layer had the most truths, but truths that had marinated for decades in strong bias. Years and years of being so close together tended to create unshakable impressions, loves and resentments.

Kerri shied away from the final layer whenever possible. The acquaintance layer was close enough and provided plenty of information. She considered some options as her tablet’s screen shut off. Natalie might know more, but she was on her honeymoon. And sick too—though Kerri had her doubts.

But Justin… He was plugged in. There was no rumor that he didn’t hear about first. And she’d promised to call.

They exchanged a few pleasantries. Justin was alone at home, working on some documents that apparently could wait. “What’s up?” he asked. “Another eventful day yesterday?”

“You could say that. I got a job.”

“Really? Doing what?”

“Working for the enemy.”

“Kerri, no! The IRS?”

She chuckled. “I said the enemy, not the devil.”

“Well then. It can’t be that bad.”


He had no idea she was with TLD. What would he say if she told him?

Without pressing for details—he knew better—he brought her up to speed on the family and what everyone had been up to, starting with siblings and cousins. She listened patiently. He’d only get around to talking about people he knew once he was done with the obligatory Sterling news first.

Finally, he nudged her about seeing Barron. “There’s gotta be a reason why he wants to see you. Who knows? Maybe he’s about to leave you everything.”

Yeah, right. “And get back under the thumb of le roi soleil?” She used their secret codename for Barron. It fit well. Barron was easily as autocratic and almost as powerful as Louis XIV, and just as long-lived too. The joke in the family was that he would outlive all his great nephews. “The last time he wanted somebody this bad, the guy ended up ruined. Ruined, with a capital R.”

“Come on. You don’t really think he’s out to get you, right?” Justin said.

“Hey, just because you’re the Heir Apparent—”

“Holy shit, Kerri. That’s low,” he muttered. He hated the nickname.

“Sorry,” she said, slightly contrite. “But look, if you keep talking about Barron I’m going to change my number and lose yours.”

“Fine. I won’t mention him. But you’re being too harsh.”

“No, I’m not. He does not want to see me, trust me on this.” Every summer she’d come home, Barron had made sure she spent at least two months with Justin’s parents. “And I sure don’t want to see him. We have nothing to talk about.”

Justin sighed and dropped the topic. Instead, they gossiped for a bit about the people in the Sterlings’ social circle.

Her patience paid off when he finally said, “You remember the Lloyds, the family who used to be in Houston?”

“Vaguely. I wasn’t there much, remember?”

“True. You were boarding in Europe most of the time.”

“I know of them,” she said. “They own The Lloyds Development. They do real estate in competition with Sterling & Wilson—pretty successfully, if I recall.” Her father had led the real estate division before his untimely death, and during her business career, articles about it had always caught her eye.

“Yup. But I’m hearing some rumors that Jacob—the CEO—is in trouble.”

“What kind?”

“Legal and domestic. To be more specific” —his voice lowered, indicating the delicious nature of this particular bit of gossip— “bigamy.”

Kerri gasped, sitting up. “No way.”

“I’m pretty sure of it.”

“Oh my god, his poor wife.”

“She’ll be all right. She’s the Fairchild.”

“You’re kidding. The Fairchild?”

“Yup. Sebastian’s only.”

“Her family lost all their money when he screwed up his investments. How can she be all right?”

“The right pedigree and looks. She’s beautiful and young. She’ll be able to get a rich new husband who’s looking for a luxury edition trophy wife.”

“That’s kind of cold.” The Justin she remembered wouldn’t be so casual about another person’s misfortune.

“Hey, don’t be so quick to judge. Everyone knows she married Jacob for money.”

Still… She might have had a reason no one knew about. “So who’s Jacob’s real wife?”

“From what I understand, a Las Vegas stripper.”

“Get outta here.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Why would a guy like Jacob Lloyd marry a stripper?”

“Who knows? Maybe he likes ’em dirty and easy.”

She groaned.

“Have to admit,” Justin continued, “dirty and easy does have a certain appeal. But generally speaking, we don’t marry girls we’re too ashamed to bring home to meet mama, see what I’m saying?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So that’s probably why he kept it a secret for so long and married a woman who wouldn’t embarrass him in front of his family. Or maybe he just got really drunk in Las Vegas and didn’t realize he got hitched. Who knows?”

She swore. “What a mess.” No wonder Ethan had gone to see his mother in person.

“Don’t feel bad for him. If half the stuff I’ve heard about him is true, Jacob’s the biggest a*shole around. You know he used to steal his younger brother’s girlfriends just for the hell of it?”

“What?” Tread carefully, Kerri. “Um, isn’t Ethan Lloyd supposed to be kind of a player? He doesn’t seem like the type to lose women to another guy, even if it’s his older brother.”

“Not Ethan. I’m talking about Gavin, the youngest.” She could hear Justin click his tongue. “Big mistake, too. Jacob antagonized his brothers, and they’re the real business brains. Gavin’s even built an investment and trading firm in California. Good for me though, since I’m managing the real estate side of things. It would’ve been a lot harder to compete with TLD if Ethan or Gavin had been in charge.”

She tossed herself back on the couch, leaning back with her feet propped on the arm-rest. She and Justin ended the call, promising to meet for coffee when he was in the neighborhood. A polite formality since he was too busy to take the time to come out to see her. Barron was grooming him to take over the real estate division of Sterling & Wilson, and Barron didn’t believe in taking time off. Kerri didn’t mind. Justin was one of the smartest people she knew, and he was probably the most qualified out of all the cousins.

What Justin had said clarified everything that made Kerri wonder about her new job. Ethan’s vagueness about the CEO position being somewhat vacant, the indefinite term of employment and so on. He wouldn’t want to talk about family scandal with her, and he couldn’t be sure how much impact the whole mess would have on TLD.

Then something else Justin had said registered and she sat up. If Jacob Lloyd wasn’t all that great at his job—and her cousin was an excellent judge of competence—how could Ethan be so confident that the company was doing fine? Was he under some kind of delusion, or had he fudged the details a little to make her not work as fast or as hard?

She went to the study and booted up her computer.

*



Ethan parked his Aston Martin in front of a stately three-story home in Chevy Chase Village, one of the nicest neighborhoods in Maryland. After his father’s death, his mother had moved back to where she’d been born, saying it was more comforting that way than to live in the home she’d created and shared with the man she’d loved more than anything in the world.

He found her in the yard, planting a rosebush.

“Mom, get the gardener to do that for you,” he said, slightly exasperated. Stella Lloyd’s hair was grayer every time he saw her, and he hated the idea of his mother digging and pulling weeds. He’d hired a gardener, and from what he could see, the man had done a good job. Everything was carefully trimmed, lush and green.

“I’m not that old.” She stood stiffly, brushed the dirt from her gloved hands and overalls, then stood on tiptoe to give him a peck on the cheek. “Want some iced tea? I’ve worked up a thirst.”

“Sure. Inside or out?”

“Oh, it’s a nice day. Out.”

His mother went into the house, then reappeared a couple of minutes later carrying a tray laden with two tall glasses of tea and a plate of home-baked chocolate chip cookies, his favorite childhood treat.

She set everything on a small table under a large spreading oak. “Thought you’d be visiting soon.”

“Thanks.” He bit into one of the cookies, which was just as good as he remembered. “Isn’t it a little late for roses?” he said, looking at the bush.

“It is, but I felt like I should.”

“It must be a pretty special one for you to feel that way.”

“Yes. Yellow roses. Took them all out but then decided maybe I was being too hasty.”

She’d redone her garden when Jacob had announced his engagement to Catherine. It wasn’t until a few months later that Ethan had learned yellow roses were Catherine’s favorite.

A large green sun-visor shaded her eyes, but that wasn’t the only thing darkening them. The good humor that usually sparkled there had vanished. “Ethan, are we all right?”

She didn’t have to say the rest. Ethan knew.

Can we withstand the scandal? Can we provide for everyone like nothing’s happened? Can we pretend nothing’s wrong and go on as before?

There would be nothing about standing behind Jacob. His mother’s sense of propriety wouldn’t allow it.

He nodded. “The scandal is going to be embarrassing, but we’ll be all right. Pattington’s looking into Jacob’s whereabouts. I’ve hired a well-qualified person to check the books, and I’ll be more actively involved to ensure everything stays as is. No matter what, we’re a family. We take care of our own.”

“Of course. But what Jacob’s done… I still can’t believe it.” She picked up her tea and took a long swallow. Her throat worked as she put the glass back on the table. “I can’t imagine where we went wrong with him. Your father always wanted the very best from Jacob, and so did I.” She ran her index finger along the side of the glass. The condensation flowed down in a thin rivulet. She looked at the table, her face lax and heavy. It was a lighter version of the expression she’d worn at her husband’s funeral. “I wonder if that was too much for him. He was never like you or Gavin.”

Jacob had been hyper-competitive from the start and couldn’t stand to lose to anybody, especially his two younger brothers. There were whispers he’d even poached a few of Gavin’s girlfriends, something Ethan considered a pointless rumor that had started because of the way Catherine had played both brothers. Catherine had dated both and chosen Jacob over Gavin. Jacob wasn’t stupid; he’d known his fiancée was a scheming two-timer, but married her anyway.

Ethan had never hinted he knew about the trio’s complicated relationship. No one involved in the sordid affair had told him, but it hadn’t been difficult to figure things out. Gavin had confided he was planning to propose to some girl he’d been dating for about a year—but then suddenly there was nothing, and his attitude had been positively arctic at Jacob’s wedding. In fact, he’d hooked up with the maid of honor and promptly had her move in with him, something totally out of character. Since then he’d avoided being anywhere near Jacob and Catherine, which wasn’t difficult. Gavin lived in California and had a busy life.

Ethan had never said anything to his mother about the love triangle. It would simply have upset her, and nothing productive would have resulted.

“Jacob’s an adult and knows right from wrong,” he said. “He can make his own decisions.”

“Yes, you’re right.” Her gaze sharpened, her mouth firmed. She squared her shoulders, the movement subtle but clear. “He’s made his choices. And the rest of us must do what we must.”