Million Dollar Mistake (2 page)

“I wasn’t, but then Uncle J.R. convinced me to…” she smiled at J.R. and Margaret, and then sent a tentative look in Jackson’s direction, “…to, um, convinced me to cancel my other plans.”

“I’m so glad you did.”

Lorianne smiled. “So am I.” Another nervous look at Jackson, then at Raven before pulling her attention back to Margaret. “I wasn’t sure I should—under the circumstances. I mean, I didn’t know if I would be welcome, but I—”

J.R. strode forward and enveloped her in a big bear hug. “Nonsense. You’re always welcome here. You’re family.”

“Father,” Jackson growled a warning, which his father ignored.

Releasing Lorianne, J.R. said, “Why, you and Jackson are practically engaged. Have been since you were in college.”

Jackson’s face turned red. “Father, we never had a formal understanding, so I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t give everyone”—he sent Raven a guilty glance—”the impression that we were practically walking down the aisle.”

His father ignored him and smiled at everyone—more a bearing of teeth. “Isn’t this nice?”

Nice?
Raven glanced from tense face to tense face.
Yes, and Satan is an altar boy
. For the first time that evening, Raven relaxed. So much drama, and for once not hers. Or—feeling a slight twinge—not completely.

Raven felt Irina’s sharp eyes studying her. Casually she turned and smiled at her. After a moment, Irina smiled back.

“You and I should get to know each other a bit, Raven.”

“I’d be honored, Mrs. Exeter.”

“Call me, Nana, child. Everyone does.”

“Then how can I refuse?” Raven said in a smooth society voice that would have made her mother proud.
 

Jackson hurried over to her side, attempting to ignore Lorianne who was making polite conversation with Margaret and J.R. while surreptitiously eyeing him.

He positioned himself between Raven and Nana, cupping their elbows to usher them forward. “Ladies, Tilda is hovering in the doorway. Shall we go in to dinner?”

Feeling three sets of eyes stabbing her like daggers in the back, Raven allowed Jackson to lead her to the dining room. She slipped into her chair.
Dinner. How difficult can it be?

As difficult as a blind yak in a snowstorm finding shelter.

The meal qualified as a natural disaster. First, veiled comments from the Exeters made it very apparent that Lorianne was part of the family and Raven was interfering with the natural order of things—which wasn’t her intention, but no matter. Then Jackson’s unsubtle attempts to show his family that he was interested in Raven, not Lorianne, increased the tension. Finally, Lorianne’s attempt to smooth the atmosphere with polite chatter ended up in disaster when she knocked over her wine goblet followed immediately by her water glass. Under the circumstances, maintaining polite conversation was equal to holding a country dance in a minefield. It was enough to give anyone indigestion. Even someone used to setting the world on its ear. The only person who enjoyed the food was Nana, who despite her ninety-pound frame ate like a stevedore, then suddenly fell asleep in her chair. Raven envied her.

She jumped at a chance to escape when Jackson suggested a game of billiards. Raven would have played even if she didn’t know a cue ball from a kumquat. As it was, she was an expert. It was the one thing she and her father did together when she was little, her sisters not being interested in the game. She’d treasured those times. He’d actually noticed her then.

Raven coolly surveyed the table, studying the green baize that sported only a few balls left to decide the game.

“Six in the corner pocket.”

As Jackson muttered a doubtful comment, she couldn’t help showing off with a bank shot, her angle so perfect she might as well have used a protractor and ruler.

After watching for a moment longer, he broached the topic she’d hoped to avoid. “You must be wondering about Lorianne.”

“Not true,” Raven said.

“We grew up together, more or less. And our families were close and always hoped—”

“Yes, she seems very attached to your family
. Uncle J.R
. and all.”

“She always called my parents Aunt and Uncle. Courtesy titles, you know. You don’t have to be jealous of that.”

“What? Oh, I’m not.”

“Good, because there’s no need.” Jackson slid his hand down her arm. “Raven, you are the most exciting, beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Uh-oh.
Raven moved, naturally dislodging his touch, stopping him in mid-comment as she bent over the table again and lined up a shot. What might have pleased her ego earlier was now making her a bit uncomfortable. His intensity seemed to increase in proportion to the negative family reaction this evening.

“Look, Jackson, here goes another one into the pocket. You’d better start concentrating, luv, or this game is going down in history.
My
history.”

A bitter chuckle came from Jackson. “History. My God, I’m so sick of that word.”

Raven straightened, sending him a puzzled glance. “Why?”

“Because my destiny is history. According to my father.”

Raven murmured, “Most parents have plans—”

“You heard about that, too?”

“Heard about what?”

“My preliminary political ambitions?”

Raven sent him a surprised look. “I didn’t realize that. I just meant, they seem proud of you and care a great deal.”

“Too much,” Jackson muttered. “My entire life they’ve—”

“Well,” Raven said, using her most tactful expression, “you can’t have too much love.” She’d been trying her entire life to get it, so she knew what she was talking about.

“No, you can’t, can you? Raven—”

The ardent tone in his voice warned her. Coming here with him might rank as one of the bigger mistakes she’d made lately. She’d only come for fun. Didn’t he realize that?

“Ever since I met you…”

Obviously not.

“Raven, I’ve—”

“Oops.” To avoid further talk she did the only thing she could, she missed a shot so he’d have to take a turn. “Bad luck. You’re up, Jackson.”

Jackson waved it aside. “I don’t care about that. Raven, I want to—”

“Finish this game while the night is young? I agree.”

He placed his pool cue on the table and stepped toward her. “No. From the moment I first saw you, I’ve been considering—”

“Jackson”—she faked a huge yawn—”I think the combination of scotch and the wine at dinner were too much for me. I’m getting very sleepy. Would you mind if we continue this discussion tomorrow?”

“I…”

She gave him her most appealing look. “Please.”

His face fell, but he responded courteously, “No, of course not.”

Raven slipped her pool stick into the wall rack, blew a kiss then sauntered through the double doors, leaving Jackson staring at her with a puzzled look. She made it as far as the hallway before taking a deep breath and accelerating her pace. She didn’t exhale until she’d closed her bedroom door behind her.

Close call.

She leaned back against the wood, praying he hadn’t changed his mind and followed her. All she could hear was her own tense breath in the darkness, accompanied by confused thoughts. Jackson wasn’t playing by the normal fun-and-games rules of seduction. He’d jumped right to the last act before the curtain raised. Even though she’d had a minor engagement here and there, no relatives had been involved, just hot-blooded
hunks.
She wasn’t sure how to handle this.

Raven walked across the room, undressing as she went, tossing her clothes on a chair before wrapping a silk robe around her as she replayed the dinner disaster. Lorianne adored Jackson and tried to show him, while he…

She frowned, fighting an uncomfortable sympathy for Lorianne. Raven recognized a woman with little self-confidence where men were concerned— hell, with everyone—so she pushed too hard to gain acceptance. Raven recognized it too well. It brought back many painful memories.

She sighed and sat on the edge of her bed, reaching to turn on the side table lamp. Pulling the pins from her hair, her tempestuous mass fell to curl around her shoulders. She tapped a scarlet nail against her lips as she considered the situation. Lorianne obviously wanted a “happily-ever-after” with Jackson, while Raven only wanted a “friend with benefits”. To avoid an even messier scene, she’d have to find a way to convince Jackson she was the wrong woman for his future.

The bad weather had changed Nicholas’s plans. Since he’d left New York later than he’d expected due to some personal business, the gale-like winds and blowing snow he’d encountered in upstate New York had forced him to stop overnight.

The weather was more wild and wooly the next day as Nicholas left the highway to access the roads leading to J.R.’s country estate. His rented Land Rover slipped on one of the curvy mountain roads. He peered through the windshield at the dense snow. Although the highway system up here was used to handling a great deal of snowfall, it was now falling too fast for them to make a dent, according to the radio.

“
Raven Rutledge,
” he snarled. “Just wait—”

If it weren’t for her, he’d be tucked up in a lovely suite, enjoying a gorgeous woman, swilling champagne and celebrating a successful closure to his business deal with J.R. Exeter. Instead, he was blinded by snow and getting a pounding headache.

When he got his hands on
Little Miss Trouble
—

Nicholas occupied the next few miles happily deciding what to do with Raven, what tortures to inflict, before he saw a sign that identified J.R.’s country home. Downshifting to accommodate the sharp curve, he turned onto a blacktop road. Nicholas traversed a long drive that meandered through the woods before the trees parted to reveal a huge, old Tudor mansion tucked into a cozy pocket meadow created by rising cliffs on either side. The place rambled like a bit of architecture gone mad. But there was an air of expectation, as if the house had been waiting for him. Nicholas snorted, “Yeah, right.”

Another bit of insightful fancy that could have come straight from a dashing Romany ancestor, according to family legend. Personally, Nicholas thought someone had romanticized the family background to include a clairvoyant gypsy prince, but occasionally…

 
He pulled to a stop in front of the house and sat for a moment leaning forward, arms resting on the steering wheel. His breath quickened as he stared at the house. There was something he couldn’t put his finger on. A feeling that something was waiting for him, drawing him closer.

The unexpected sound of a car’s horn echoed, snapping him back to the present. He’d accidentally hit the center of the steering wheel with his elbow. He lifted his forearms, sat back and blinked.
Get a grip.

Nicholas grabbed the keys and opened the door, turning to remove his luggage from the backseat. Something waiting for him? That sounded like his old man talking. An excuse for his bad luck at the tables, the slots, with a sure-fire investment. Always looking for an easy ride, even at the end.

Nicholas’s head pounded. He closed his eyes for a brief instant and focused on steadying his breathing until he felt the emotions twisting inside him begin to straighten.

It’s history. Dead, done, gone and buried.

Nicholas stared up at the house, slightly less visible in the driving snow. Still—
Something’s waiting
raced through his mind in a driving rhythm. “Some—”

Then the pounding stopped and his head cleared. Back to normal. His lips quirked as he took a firmer grip on his leather bag and approached the front door.

The only thing waiting for him inside this place was a siren named Raven, singing her seductive song to any male susceptible enough to listen. And that sure-as-hell didn’t include him.

He grinned as he rang the bell. “Get ready, sweetheart. It’s time to face the music and learn a new tune.”

Chapter Two

That afternoon, Raven had escaped to the library. As a child, she’d spent many hours among the books at her home, both from inclination and from a need to hide from her family, think things over and dream. Funny how she never outgrew some childhood experiences, regardless of how far she came. She rolled her eyes. A psychologist would probably explain that she was still hiding from reality, judging by her adult behavior.

Up in the loft, Raven tucked herself deeper into a wing chair placed in an alcove of books located near the top of the winding stairs. She was well hidden up here in her cozy haven, but could still see some of the room below. Rubbing her chin, she considered her awkward situation. Since the snow was falling more heavily, all thoughts of leaving immediately were out. She’d have to think on her feet and improvise.

She started to rise when the strident sound of angry voices changed her mind. Jackson and his father entered the library in the midst of a volatile argument. She shrunk farther into her chair, praying no one would see her.

“Save your breath, Father,” Jackson said. “I’m an adult. I will see whom I wish, when I wish.”

“Goddammit, Jackson,” J.R. exploded. “You’re playing with fire here, don’t you know that? Have you any idea of this woman’s reputation? What she could do to you?”