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Her heart seized when he suddenly brought his head in close to trail his nose across her cheek, along her ear…
“I can’t recall you ever minding the head I used when we were married, Tel.”
Tielle ignored the voice inside her mind and its warning that she not allow her mouth to get her in trouble.
“I so rarely had a choice in the matter,” she blurted anyway.
The admission seemed to weaken Grae’s resolve. He relieved her of his weight, and Tielle turned her face into the pillow next to the one that had been cradling her head. She watched as he silently went about the task of donning his clothes.
“Grae—” Tielle’s words were interrupted by the sight of her clothes being tossed her way courtesy of Graedon.
“You’re right, Ti. We’re already way too late.”
His words made her feel frozen to the bed. She sat there studying the fierce ripple of sinews in his back and shoulders as he jerked his clothes on. She didn’t attempt to move until he’d left the cottage. The front door slammed resoundingly behind him.
* * *
“We’re making a habit of this!” Faro laughed, finding his aunt rounding the long mural-adorned corridor at the same time he did.
Desree’s expression was one of playful unease. “Sounds like we’re late. Not very commendable.”
“Ah, we’re good.” Faro gave a noncommittal wave. “We’re good. It’ll take ’em forty-five minutes to get settled anyway.”
“That’s good, then. It’ll give us the chance to talk.” Des eased her hands into the side pockets of her denim skirt. “What do you want from me, Faro?”
The pointed question only roused sudden laughter from the man.
“You already told me—what was it again? A few more get-togethers might give me an idea of how I could spare the family more drama. Drama about what?”
“Des, come on.” Faro’s resulting grin was not a humorous one. “Stop playing the clueless role. You can’t pull it off.”
“Drama about what?”
Faro sighed, studying his hands as he rubbed them together. “Since discussing all the particulars understandably makes me want to vomit, let’s just say it’s drama about a little…what was the word they used to use for it? Issue?”
Desree gasped. “How—” She stopped herself, realizing that the question would only solidify what Faro thought—and what she knew—to be fact.
“What do you want from me?” she asked instead.
Satisfaction smoothed the harsh lines in Faro’s angular face. “One of two things my father left to others that should’ve been mine.”
“Your father was a smart man.” Understanding gleamed on Desree’s lovely face. “He knew his business wouldn’t survive a year with you at the helm.”
“That’s what he thought—” Faro shrugged beneath a silk dress shirt “—but as we both know, he wasn’t really the best judge of character.”
Desree was close enough to slap her nephew, and she did. The blow echoed in the corridor despite the voices of family members resonating beyond the living room where the therapy session would soon be underway.
“Why would you do this now?” she hissed.
“I could’ve done it earlier if not for momentary weakness,” Faro sneered, touching the back of his hand to where Desree’s blow had landed. “I actually believed my ex-sister-in-law might really pull off the trick of getting my perfect little brother to go against Daddy’s wishes for once in his life. She might’ve managed to do it, too, if Grae didn’t hate me so much.”
“Such emotions aren’t one-sided, you know? They only come into play as defense mechanisms.”
“That’s right.” Faro smiled at the argument. “Always an excuse for Grae. Is that because he’s the baby?”
“Why do you want that deed, Faro?”
“Grae’s already got the building. I at least deserve the land—some part of Dad’s legacy. He was my father, too, right, Des?”
“Don’t play the loving-son role with me, Faro. It’s impossible for you to pull that off.” Des turned her nephew’s earlier jibe around on him. “Ken gave you no part of his legacy for a reason. I’d betray his memory if I did.”
