Moe and Shelby and the rest of the stablehands were down at the track with the trainers and the horses. As he’d driven off, he’d thought it was a shame to waste the peace and quiet at the farm—but this was something he needed to handle in person.
Rain began to fall, first as a few drops; then as a drizzle.
He checked his watch again.
Thirteen minutes. He was betting she would be home in thirteen minutes: Whereas most of the two hundred thousand people at Steeple-hill Downs were going to enjoy a long trek back to wherever they had left their cars, followed by a further gridlock as they attempted to get on the highway, folks like the Bradfords and the Suttons had police escorts that got them in and out the back ways fast.
And he was right.
Some twelve minutes and a number of seconds later, one of the Sutton family’s black Mulsannes pulled up in front of the house, the driver popping out from behind the wheel and triggering an umbrella as he went to the rear door. A second security man did the same on the other side.
Sutton’s father emerged first and needed the arm of his chauffeur to get to the house.
Sutton, on the other hand, uncoiled slowly from the vehicle, her eyes trained on his truck. After speaking with the driver, she took the umbrella from the man and walked over, heedless that she was ruining her high-heeled shoes.
Edward put the window down as she approached—and tried to ignore the scent of her perfume as she came up to him.
“Get in,” he said without sparing her a glance.
“Edward—”
“As if I’m going to discuss what you signed with my father in your own house? Or even in your front yard?”
She let out a very unlady-like curse and then marched around the front of the truck. With a grunt, he tried to reach over as a gentleman should and open her door, but she got there first—and besides, his body wouldn’t let him stretch that far.
As she settled into the seat, she froze as she saw her purse.
Putting the truck in gear, he muttered, “I figured you’d want your driver’s license back.”
“I have to be at the ball in forty-five minutes,” she said as he started down her hill.
“You hate going to those things.”
“I have a date.”
“Do you. Congratulations.” A quick fantasy of kidnapping her and keeping her from going at all played out in a very Lifetime Movie sort of way—said fantasy culminating in her going Stockholm syndrome and falling in love with her captor. “Who is he?”
“None of your business.”
Edward took a left and just kept driving. “So you’re lying.”
“Check the society pages tomorrow morning,” she countered in a bored tone. “You can read all about it.”
“I don’t get the Charlemont Courier Journal anymore.”
“Look, Edward—”
“What the hell are you doing? Mortgaging my goddamn house?”
Even though he wasn’t looking at her, he could feel her icy stare nailing him in the face. “Number one, your father approached me. And number two, if you take that tone with me again, I’ll foreclose just on principle.”
Edward shot a glare in her direction. “How could you do that? Are you really that greedy?”
“The interest rate is more than fair! And would you have preferred he go to a bank, where it would be recorded for the public? I’m going to keep everything private, assuming the payments are made.”
He jabbed a finger at the documents on the seat between them. “I want you to make that go away.”
“You are not a party to this, Edward. And apparently your father needs the money or he wouldn’t have come to me.”
“That is my mother’s house!”
“You know, if I were you, I’d be thanking me. I’m not sure what’s going on under that roof of yours, but ten million should be nothing for the likes of the grand and glorious Bradford family!”
Edward took a hard left and pulled into one of the public parks that dotted the Ohio River. Crossing the empty parking lot, he stopped when he got to the boat launch and put them in park. By now, the storm was really heating up, and the bursts of light from the sky fueled the anger inside of him.
Wrenching around in the seat, he swallowed a groan at the pain. “He doesn’t need the money, Sutton.”
It was a lie, of course, however the last thing the family needed was talk: As much as he was frustrated with Sutton, he knew he could trust her, but there had to be other people involved on her side. Lawyers, bankers. At least she could refute their conversation if it came up.
“Then why did he sign that document?” she demanded. “Why did your father go out of his way to divert me from a business meeting and put this on the table.”
As she confronted him, he had a quick mental image from the night before of her straddling his hips, riding him, being gentle with his broken body.
Then he remembered his father reaching for her in the office.
Could this get any messier, he wondered as hatred for William Baldwine surged.
Edward focused on her lips and thought about his brother’s wife. “Has he ever kissed you?”
“Excuse me.”
“My father. Has he ever kissed you.”