Almost Always: A Love Unexpected Novel (20 page)

Kason chuckled. "Right now, I would like to perpetrate some naughtiness with you, my queen. Shall we move our little party upstairs?" He helped me to my feet. On the way out he asked me to wait a minute. He spoke to the maître d for a moment and then we pushed the button for the ancient elevator.

I was more than ready to get back to the room. I wanted to feel Kason's warm skin against mine again. There was never enough of him. Each sensuous adventure was a journey of unbelievable discovery about myself and my capacity for passion. He had opened doors that I never wanted to close. They were portals into depths I didn't know I possessed until his touch unlocked them for me.

Thirty two

I nervously twirled around for Kason's appraisal. I had chosen an ivory colored knit dress with a cowl neck and some coffee colored suede boots that came up to my knees. The dress slid over my skin as soft as goose down. It made me feel utterly feminine, as if the dress was caressing me. I had gathered my hair into a loose ponytail at the back of my head and let a few tendrils go free. My make-up, as usual, was minimal.

"If 'chaste' is the look you're after, I think you've nailed it."

I knit my brow. "You gave me the dress! Was 'chaste' what you were looking for?"

He rose from the stuffy button-backed chair and held me. "I was looking for soft, which is what you are. Soft and sweet. You are perfectly and appropriately dressed. Except . . ."

"Except what?" I scanned my image in the mirror trying to figure out what I had missed.

Kason pulled a velvet box from the inside pocket of his blazer. "I know you're going to object, but you need to be properly 'accessorized' as Taishi would put it. My father has an eye for details. If you hate the jewelry, we can take it back—later."

"I won't
hate
the jewelry. I just don't think you should spend so much money on me," I said as I accepted the box. "Besides, from what you've told me, your father's opinion shouldn't matter one way or the other." Of course, I knew that wasn't true at all. I could read a lot more in what Kason had said—and not said—about his father than he gave me credit for. Cold and indifferent parents are the kind children spend their lives trying to please or impress.

The bracelet and earrings were set with a gemstone I didn't recognize. They were perfectly matched square cut stones set in rose-colored gold. Each was about the size of my thumbnail. But it was the color that made them so unique. Not orange and not pink, the warm glow of the crystals was somewhere in between. They reminded me of an autumn sunset.

"I purposely chose something modest. I know how squirrelly you are about expensive gifts."

"Yes, I'm sure you bought these at Claire's," I said sarcastically.

"Claire's?"

"Nevermind, it isn't a place you'll ever set foot in. What are the stones?"

"Imperial topaz. Unusual, aren't they? I thought the color would suit you."

"They're beautiful. Thank you."

"That's it? I don't have to argue with you about it? Just a graceful 'thank you'? My, my, perhaps you're growing up."

"Keep it up and I won't wear them," I threatened, but with a smile. I held out my hand and he fastened the clasp around my wrist. Then he brought my hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over my fingers.

"You deserve beautiful things. You wouldn't frame a Van Gogh in plastic, and you should be adorned and clothed like the masterpiece that you are."

I turned back to the mirror and put the earrings on. He watched me from behind with an expression that was dangerous and devouring. There was a possessive side to him and I couldn't decide how I felt about that. On the one hand, I was thrilled that he wanted me. On the other, I resented the way he wanted to control me without giving me anything to . . . hold on to.

When I turned and met his eyes I felt as if I was falling again. Falling into his depths, getting lost in the tangle of his desire and losing myself in the dense jungle of his damaged soul. I looked at him and knew that it was impossible to be near him without wanting him. At that moment it was enough. It had to be enough.

We went out to the ancient elevator and I used the long ride to admire how fine he looked. He had chosen a rather understated outfit for our brunch meeting with his father. The bespoke suit he had worn to dinner the night before had been replaced by a blue blazer and a pair of khaki slacks. His crisp white shirt accentuated his tawny skin and gold-brown hair. He glowed with good health and prosperity down to the tips of his perfect fingers. Today he chose not to wear a tie, but he had tucked a red pocket square in the breast pocket of his sport coat. The double-breasted blazer emphasized the broadness of his shoulders, his strong chest and narrow waist. For the thousandth time, I thought him as beautiful a man as had ever been made.

We drove nearly the entire way to the Pump Room in silence. He was trying hard to appear casual, but I could sense his mood. There was tension in his jaw and his grip on the Bentley's steering wheel was a little too tight.

"The Pump Room used to be about as old school as the Drake Hotel. A couple of years ago, the hotel that it's attached to was sold and the restaurant was completely overhauled. I'm kind of surprised my father still goes there."

"He's not fond of change?"

"That's part of it. But also because it was one of my mother's favorites. They used to go there on New Year's Eve." He smiled. "They took me there for brunch once in a blue moon. The thing I remember the clearest was the midget who served coffee."

"A midget?"

"I'm not kidding. He was a midget dressed in pink satin livery with an ostrich plume on his turban."

"That would certainly make an impression on a kid. Or anyone for that matter."

"I hope you aren't too disappointed. I think they did away with the midget years ago."

The valet took our keys and Kason led me through the doors as if seeing his father was the most natural thing in the world. When Mr. Royce rose to greet us, the resemblance to his son was striking. He had Kason's regal bearing, the same aristocratic features and an almost identical smile. But where Kason was golden, Bradley Royce was dark. His hair was once jet black but now showed silver at the temples. His eyes were dark chocolate and almost unreadable as they took me in. If my presence at the table was a surprise, he didn't let on. Like Kason's eyes, his seemed to bore right through me.

I found myself appraising his body. Under the pinstriped suit were shoulders every bit as broad as his son's, a chest that looked solid and strong, narrow hips that ended in long graceful legs.

"Father, this is Annalise Harding."

"Brad Royce," he said as he took my hand. His grip was more powerful than I had expected but I saw the same elegant Royce fingers. His smile seemed forced. "I'm happy to meet you, Annalise."

The two men didn't embrace or even shake hands. Kason hadn't told me how long it had been since he had even talked to his father, but I suspected it had been a while. We sat down, Kason to my right and Mr. Royce to my left. The two men faced each other across the small table.

Their conversation was bland and all business. But it was plain that they followed each other's exploits carefully. Both men were able to converse about the other's triumphs in different financial arenas with ease. I felt quite irrelevant. Mr. Royce had forced a few polite questions out at the beginning of the meal—where I was from, where I went to school, that sort of thing—and then turned his frosty attention on his son.

I picked at the meal in front of me and wondered what Kason's purpose had been in arranging the meeting. Did he want to impress upon me that his reserve was an inherited trait? I didn’t see much value in that discovery. It changed nothing.

Kason put his hand to his coat pocket and pulled out his vibrating phone. "You'll have to excuse me, I need to take this call," he said as he rose from his seat and left the table. Alone with Mr. Royce, I felt small and childlike. I wanted to dazzle him with some witty conversation but I drew a complete blank and settled for what probably looked like a stupid grin.

"How well do you know my son?"

Yikes. "We've been seeing each other a few months."

He went straight for my heart. "Kason rarely takes the time to introduce me to the young ladies he sees. I take it there's something serious going on?"

How was I supposed to answer that? I was tempted to tell him that I was the only serious one but thought better of it. "Your son has been very good to me. And to my family."

Mr. Royce smirked. "I'm sure my son can afford to be as generous as it pleases him to be."

I didn't like the implication. "I care very much about Kason, Mr. Royce. He's a fine man."

"He's a fine catch. Especially for . . . someone like you."

"Someone like me?" I was dressed to the nines, decked with jewels and hadn't mentioned a word about my family's circumstances. So what gave me away?

"Oh, please. You needn't be defensive. I simply meant that Kason could have any one of dozens of stars or heiresses or even royalty. You seem rather straight forward and down to earth." He took a sip of his wine and continued, "Then again, I hardly know my son. What I know is what I read in the papers. Only not the papers these days. You know what I mean."

"I've seen the pictures, too, Mr. Royce. I don't imagine myself to be as glamorous as the ladies on his arm on the internet."

"Plastic, all of them. I meet plenty of that variety myself." He fixed me with his dark enigmatic stare. "You know about the girl?"

"You mean Elsa?"

"I had hoped that she would . . . that she could be the one who healed him. I never met her."

That surprised me. I felt a selfish sense of satisfaction that I was the one who he'd brought to meet his father. "Kason has a lot of hurt in him." Then I said something that I thought I might regret. It just came out. "You could be part of healing him, too, Mr. Royce."

The mask just crumbled in front of my eyes. I saw it as clearly as if he had reached up and peeled off a false face. "I would love to be part of that." To my utter surprise, he reached over and took my hand. "I'm getting old enough to have regrets. And one of my biggest regrets is my only son. Success is a cold companion, Annalise. I don't want Kason to wind up like me."

"Why don't you talk to him?"

"What can I say? 'I'm sorry I ruined your childhood'? 'Forgive me for not having the strength to bear the tragedy'? 'Let me make up for abandoning a poor child whose heart was breaking?' I can't go back and fix what I broke."

"No, you can't go back. But you can go forward." I wanted to gather the man in my arms and tell him it would be all right. I squeezed his hand. "Right now, you've got a son who speaks to you like you're a distant acquaintance. What have you got to lose by trying to break the pattern? People can change, Mr. Royce."

He put his other hand over mine and gave me a smile that was as kind as his former one had been cold. "You remind me of my late wife. Her optimism was like a lighthouse to everyone who knew her. I wasn't the easiest man to live with. But I loved her. I still do."

"That's a wonderful thing to say."

The look on Kason's face when he found me sitting with my hand in his father's hands was priceless. For a man in perpetual control of his emotions, the shock on his face was almost comical. I had to stifle a laugh but couldn't help but give him a slightly self-satisfied grin. It couldn't have been more obvious that I had the salty old dog eating out of my hand.

He was visibly trying to gather his wits as he settled into his chair. Mr. Royce and I dropped our hands and both of us looked at Kason. He cleared his throat. "I guess you two found something to talk about."

"We were talking about you," I said. It was a bold admission and I meant for it to shake Kason's composure. The whole idea of keeping a distance from your own parent appalled me from the first time I learned of it. It was unnatural and painful.

Kason shifted uncomfortably. "I see. Well."

"Annalise has a way of cutting to the chase. She may be young, but she has the courage to speak her mind."

"Father, truer words were never spoken. Sometimes she says things that are better left unsaid." Kason shot me a look that was a mixture of contempt and—could it be?—fear.

"Don't blame her. She only brought out something I've been keeping in for too long."

Kason cocked an eyebrow at his father and waited for him to continue.

"Okay. Here it is. I'm tired of the distance between us, son. I read every word I can about you and your life and it's precious little. I can't turn back the clock, but as Annalise pointed out to me, I can move forward. I want to get to know you. I want . . . to be a father to you. If it's too late, I'll accept that, but I don't want to die without having tried to make it right with you."

Kason looked at his hands and his jaw clenched. "Are you sick? Is there something you're not telling me?"

Bradley Royce threw back his head and laughed. "Do you imagine that only my imminent death would bring this on?"

Kason folded his arms across his chest and just looked at his father.

"No, I am not dying."

The arms dropped.

"I'm finally old enough to know what's important. And you, son, are important to me."

There was an eternity of silence. "You're important to me, too, Dad." It was almost a whisper but we both heard it. I felt like I was going to cry with pure happiness.

"Then we'll build on that." Mr. Royce flagged a waiter down and ordered a bottle of champagne. "To toast new beginnings."

For the first time since we sat down, I saw Kason's face relax. The tension left his jaw and he smiled with something closer to genuine contentment than I had seen outside of the bedroom.

"As long as we're celebrating, there's some good news I'd like to share. Father, I'll tell you the whole story in just a minute, but first let me tell Annalise something." He turned to me and took my hand. It seemed a day for hand holding. "They caught your mother's kidnappers."