“You’ve been watching too much TV. I thought your job kept you busy.”
“It did, till I was more or less forced to quit.” She shook her head. “Barron doesn’t get to decide when and where we can be a family. He had his chance.”
“Give him another. He’s getting old, and losing his daughter really affected him. Don’t do anything you’ll regret later.”
“Losing Mom affected a lot of people.” Kerri tapped the cap on her facial lotion. “Justin, really, I’ve given it a lot of thought. I’m not sure if I care.” Barron only wanted her back so he could fill the void left by his daughter Renée’s death. It had nothing to do with how he felt about Kerri. If Renée hadn’t passed away, Barron might have never noticed his only grandchild was missing. Why would he? He was the one eager to send her off to boarding school in Europe as soon as she’d turned three.
Brisk knocking dragged her out of her morose thoughts. Maybe her mood would perk up after a nice, healthy, doctor-approved breakfast. Dinner last night had been her final indulgence. It was home-cooked Italian after all.
“Hold on a sec.” She opened the door, and her mouth fell open at the sight of a hard-eyed Ethan. A blue silk shirt and black trousers with creases sharp as a cutlass’s blade enhanced the aura of danger around him. The rolled up sleeves revealed his powerful forearms, and a black jacket hung from one hooked index finger. His shoulder-width stance reminded her of a pirate standing on the rolling deck of his ship, about to close with the enemy.
She pulled her bathrobe tighter and unconsciously touched the thick white towel wrapped around her head like a turban. “Gotta go,” she whispered into the headset. “We can talk more later.”
She ended the call and looked at Ethan. “Hey… What are you doing here?” What timing. She wasn’t even dressed.
“Thought we’d have a little talk,” he said.
Her fingers dug deeper into the soft terrycloth. She was painfully aware of her naked body underneath. This was far worse than meeting him in the teeny top and skirt at the airport. “About…?”
“Venture a guess.” His jaw jutted out, a pugilist before a fight.
She debated, then decided there was no point in trying to make him go away. He’d just force himself inside. Besides, she did owe him an apology.
Putting the headset into the robe’s pocket, she stepped aside. “Come on in.”
The door closed behind him with a soft click. She crossed her arms and moved into the living room, her bare feet quiet on the carpet. “Have you eaten? I ordered breakfast.”
“So did I. It’s on its way up.”
“Oh.”
“I tend to be more civilized when I’m not hungry.”
Well then. She wouldn’t deny him his food. She rested a hip against the TV stand and watched him. “Before we begin, I just want to say I’m—”
There was another knock. With a sigh, she opened the door and let the uniformed server push a huge table-cart in. The only thing she’d ordered was a plate of fruit and yogurt, plus a pot of fresh coffee. The mountain of scrambled eggs, giant pile of bacon and sausages, and four slices of whole-wheat toast were all for Ethan.
“Enjoy your breakfast,” the bellboy said.
“Don’t you need me to sign something?” she said.
“It’s been taken care of, Ms. Wilson.”
She glanced at Ethan as the bellboy left. What did he want? “Ethan, about la—“
He pulled out a chair for her. “Sit.”
She planted her butt in the seat and watched him take the chair across from her. Something about the way he moved…just the act of walking around a table seemed like performance art.
He put a small mound of eggs and cheese on her plate. “Here.”
“No thanks.”
“Allergic?”
“Just not in the mood.”
“Humor me.” His tone was clipped with displeasure.