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“No, I am an author. I wrote the book under a pen name. Hilton is my mother’s maiden name. You can probably guess why I don’t use my real name for my books.”
If a book came out with the name Sherbrooke on the front cover, it’d be a number-one best seller regardless of how well it was written. She could understand a person wanting his work judged on the quality of the writing and not by the author’s last name. “Yeah, I can understand that. But considering we’ve had sex, you could’ve told me the truth.”
He sat next to her, but his proximity only managed to fuel her frustration. Before he touched her, she stood and did some pacing of her own. “You should’ve told me. You’ve had plenty of opportunities before today, Curt. I wouldn’t have told anyone.”
“You’re right.”
“What?” Had he just agreed with her? Men didn’t admit when they were wrong.
“I said, you’re right.” He sounded remorseful when he repeated his answer. “I should’ve told you weeks ago and not waited until now. My only excuse is that I wasn’t sure I needed to. I figured if we only went out once or twice, you never needed to know. That I could go back to working on the house and my book. Then when I finished the renovations, I’d sell the house, move, and we’d never see each other again.”
Somewhat an understandable excuse, even if she didn’t approve. She stopped moving and faced him, her arms crossed over her chest. “And then your conscience got in the way, right? You decided to tell me now, so when you do move you don’t feel guilty?”
“No.” He stood and put his hands on her shoulders, making it difficult to move. “I needed to tell you because I care about you. I want to see what happens between us, and I can’t do that if you don’t know who I really am.”
The guy was being honest now; she’d give him that much. She shook her head as the truth fully sank in. Billionaire Curt Sherbrooke, a guy who dined at the finest restaurants in the world, had been joining them for dinner and then playing soccer with her niece. She thought back over so many of the conversations they’d shared.
“Wow, what an idiot I am.” She laughed sarcastically when one particular conversation about where his family members lived popped up, and the realization of who she stood there with hit her head on. It was either laugh or punch him in the nose. Laughing wouldn’t get her arrested for assault.
“Your uncle is the president of the United States. He doesn’t just live in Washington, D.C. He lives in the friggin’ White House.”
He grimaced. “Yeah, my uncle Warren is the current president. He’s my dad’s oldest brother.”
Real laughter bubbled up. She wasn’t sure what was crazier: that he called the president of the United States, perhaps the most powerful man in the world, Uncle Warren, or that she’d been sleeping with the president’s nephew. “And the beach house”—she made air quotes—“he owns, and you used to visit, is probably one of those gigantic mansions on the ocean.”
“Yes, Cliff House is on Bellevue Avenue.”
She’d toured some of the grand estates located along the famous street, so she had a good idea of what Cliff House must look like. “Jeez, how did I miss it? I should’ve realized you weren’t who I thought you were. All the clues were right there.”
When Taylor showed up much earlier than he expected, he wanted to strangle his cousin. Trent’s presence made easing into the truth impossible. At least it was all out there. She hadn’t shouted, attached any vulgar names to him, or slapped him. Yet.
All things considered, he’d take it and consider himself lucky so far, because she was pissed. If he stood in her position he would be, too. He just hoped she wasn’t so mad she told him to get lost. Because when he’d said he cared about her, he spoke the truth. He cared a hell of a lot.
“Taylor, I’m the same person you’ve been spending time with.” He might have kept his last name a secret, but he hadn’t changed his personality. He hadn’t done anything he wouldn’t normally do.
“So I should just smile and forget you lied?”
“You have every right to be mad. I would be, too.” He took her face between his hands. “But give me a chance to prove I’m who you thought I was. Prove that I care about you and your family. Please.” She didn’t move away. He took that as a positive sign.
“And what about Mom and Reese?” Taylor asked, her voice not giving much away.
“What about them?”
“Do you plan on telling them the truth, or do you expect me to keep all this from them?”
He’d not given it any thought one way or the other. If he hoped to keep Taylor in his life, he needed to be honest with her whole family. “Next time I see them, I’ll explain everything. Or you can tell them tonight if you want.”
“Right answer, buster.”
“Does this mean you don’t hate me?” He swallowed, and waited for an answer.
“It means I believe your explanation and understand it, even if I don’t like it.”
Taylor hadn’t said she forgave him, but her answer was better than the other alternatives he’d envisioned.
“And because I care about you, I’m willing to give you another chance.”
Relief washed over him and he lowered his lips toward hers. She’d given him what he’d asked for. Now he needed to make sure he didn’t fuck it up, because he more than cared. Somewhere along the way he’d fallen in love with her. This wasn’t the moment to tell her, though.
