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And then the lead shield he’d wrapped around his mind began to slip and his annoying guilty conscience began to sneak in, reminding him of all the reasons why he should stay away from Golden.
His brows lowered in a scowl and he shook his head. There was no way he could continue like this, wanting her but knowing he couldn’t have her. He could not live with this thing hanging over his head.
“Ho, Reed. Over here,” his teammate yelled, ripping into his daydream.
He jerked the reins, turning his horse to face the other end of the field then, with a light prod from him, she set off.
Reed knew exactly what he needed to do. He’d known all along but he’d been resisting it, pretending the problem did not exist.
He would go back to the States and seek out the woman who was making his life a torturous hell. Before another week had passed he had to find Carrie.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Another day without Reed. Golden sat staring at the computer screen knowing she was being unproductive but not able to do a thing about it. Reed had been gone three days now and she missed him terribly.
On Monday he’d come into the office, face serious, and told her he would be heading to the States the next day. She’d found it strange, this sudden trip. Normally he would have told her of his plans ahead of time. After all, she was the one who would prepare his notes or presentations or whatever else he needed for his trip. But although she was curious, she didn’t ask. She knew her place. She was just an employee, after all.
That thought made her pause and think back to the night he’d asked her out, the night he’d kissed her full on the lips. It had been magical, breathtaking, a kiss she would never forget.
But then, that kiss, what did it mean for her? Was she still just an employee to Reed or did she mean something more to him?
Golden sighed and got up to walk over to the window where she stood looking out onto Upper Bank Street. If she were smart she wouldn’t read too much into that kiss. That was what her brain was telling her but her heart? That one had a totally different view of the matter.
“What are you doing over there?”
Startled, Golden swung around to see a smiling David standing in the doorway. “Oh, hello. I...was just stretching my legs. I get cramped sometimes, sitting at the desk all day.”
“I feel you,” he said, walking in. “Lisa sent me to get you. It’s fifteen minutes into the lunch hour. Not hungry?”
“Er, not really. I have some fruit I brought from home.”
“That’s all you’re going to eat?” he demanded. “Fruit? Look how tiny you are. You could stand to gain another stone, easy. Come on down and have some real food with us. My treat.”
“No, please. I have money. I just...don’t feel like eating, that’s all.” Golden felt the heat rise in her face, she was so embarrassed. Did he think she couldn’t afford to buy her own lunch?
“Money?” he scoffed. “A couple of quid? That’s nothing. Don’t deny me the pleasure of treating you to lunch one day out of three hundred and sixty-five. Come on,” he wheedled. “It would make my day. And we’re all dying for your stimulating company.”
That made her laugh. “Well, since you put it that way.” She turned toward her desk. “Just let me shut down my computer and I’ll be right there.”
After that pleasant distraction Golden’s mood lifted and the rest of the day flew by. She was surprised when she looked up from her work to find that it was already twenty minutes after five. With a satisfied sigh she packed up her desk and headed for home, a slight smile on her face. It was a beautiful evening, warm with a slight breeze, perfect for a long walk down a country lane. She knew what she would do. She would get her mother out of the house. It would take some convincing as her mother hesitated to go far when Dunstan was around but it would be so nice if they could spend some time together - alone, with no Dunstan in the picture. She really hoped she could have her mother to herself again, if even for just one evening.
But it was not to be. When she got home the first thing she noticed was Carl’s purple Peugeot. Her stepbrother had stopped by for a visit.
Golden gritted her teeth as she grabbed her handbag from the seat and stepped out of the car. The problem was, Eugenia doted on Dunstan Manchester’s son. She was so attentive to him it was almost sickening. It was like she was trying to prove to her husband that not only was she the perfect wife, she could be the perfect mother to his offspring as well, no matter that Carl was not a child but a thirty-four year old man with a wife and children of his own.
“Sis, how are you?”
Golden had to grit her teeth again as she walked into the sitting room where Carl sprawled, a bottle of Heineken beer in his hand. She always hated his patronizing tone. It wasn’t what he said it was the way he said it, like she was somehow beneath him. And it didn’t help, either, that Golden was jealous of the way he and his father monopolized Eugenia’s time. When Manchester wasn’t in the picture, he was. When would she ever get time alone with her mother?
“I’m fine, thank you, Carl,” she said, her voice cool. She glanced around the room expecting to see her stepfather there, too, but he was nowhere to be seen.
“So I hear you’ve found yourself a job in London,” he said then took a swig and deposited the dripping bottle right on top of the spotless side table. Hadn’t the man ever heard of a coaster?
Golden clenched her fists but said nothing. Instead she drew in her breath then let it out slowly in an effort to ease the tension in her body.
“So how’s that going?” he asked, seeming not to notice her distress.
“Just fine, thank you.” That was as much as she was about to say. She knew that anything she told Carl would get back to Dunstan soon enough. Well, if they wanted any more information then they’d have to dig for it. She was not about to share anything else.
The man got up, a look of amusement on his face. “Little Miss Independent, are you?” He nodded to himself. “I didn’t think you had it in you. Thought Dad would have had you holed up here under his thumb till you’re fifty.” He chuckled. “Bold move, sis.”
Golden tightened her lips and looked away. Why did he insist on calling her that? She was not his sister and never would be. She had no love for him or his father and as far as she was concerned they would never be her family. “Where’s Mother?” she asked, readying herself to make a quick exit. She’d had enough of this conversation with Carl Manchester.
“Fixing me some jam and biscuits. You know it’s her pleasure.”
He said the last words with such disdain that Golden gasped and stepped back, stumbling when her leg brushed against something furry. There was a loud hiss and she whirled around just in time to see Sir Winston Churchill tearing back down the hallway.
“Oh, no. I’m so sorry, Sir Winston.” Not bothering to take leave of the unwelcome guest Golden hurried after her cat, her only concern that her pet was not hurt.
She would leave Carl in her mother’s care and make herself as scarce as possible while she was there. Her hopes of a relaxing mother-daughter evening dashed, Golden decided she might as well escape to her room where she could hide behind closed doors and think on pleasant thoughts, the nicest of which would be Reed Davidoff.
There was nothing to stop a girl from dreaming, was there?
***
When Saturday dawned Golden hopped out of bed, her heart doing a happy pitter-patter as she thought of what was to come. This was the day she’d been awaiting with eager anticipation, the day when her best friend and her daughter would be reconciled.
Marjorie had promised to meet her in front of the nursing home at two o’clock that afternoon. After they’d signed in Golden would allow Marjorie to go up first to see her mother. She could imagine what an emotional reunion that would be and she didn’t want to spoil the moment for either one of them. After she’d given them time alone, maybe half an hour or so, then she would go up and join in the celebration. It would be a happy day indeed.
When Golden arrived at the nursing home that afternoon she sat in the lobby waiting for her partner in crime. Six minutes later a woman – tall and regal, her hair sporting a few strands of gray – walked in.
Immediately, Golden knew that this was Marjorie Bertlam. She looked just like Claire, only younger – the same narrow face, the same no-nonsense look, the same piercing gray eyes. She got up and waved. “Marjorie, over here. It’s Golden.”
The woman’s face cleared and she smiled. “Golden.” She walked over and held out both hands. “Thank you for coming.”
“No,” Golden said, taking Marjorie’s surprisingly soft hands, “thank you. You’re going to make my friend very happy today.”
“But you didn’t have to do this,” Marjorie said. “The fact that you decided to get involved and that you’re here for support, it means so much to me.”
