Tangled Web (19 page)

The color drained from Rosemary's face. Before she could get out a denial, Chase stepped between them. Hope had only to glance at his face to know he had heard everything.

“She's lying,” Rosemary accused, point-blank.

“Hope?” Chase asked, impatiently. “What's going on?”

Not about to subject herself to more of Rosemary's insults, or Chase's questions, Hope advised crisply, “Ask your mother.”

If Rosemary hadn't been there, Chase would've gone after Hope. As it was, he figured he was better off standing watch over his mother. He knew her penchant for dramatic emotional scenes. Like Hope, he didn't want any there tonight. “Mom?”

“I don't know what she's talking about.” Both hands smoothed the ends of her hair; Rosemary stepped back into the elevator.

Chase followed her, prompted by the guilty, distressed look on his mother's face. “What did Hope mean by saying that the only reason you stayed together was because of me?” He kept a hand on the track, preventing the elevator door from closing. He had no intention of descending until they had this settled once and for all.

She looked at him, begging him to be on her side in this latest altercation. “It's true that Edmond and I were fighting a lot before we split up but it was nothing that couldn't have been resolved, given time, and she knows that. If anyone's to blame here, it's Hope.” Rosemary continued, a little desperately, “She's the one who pursued Edmond, who convinced him they could have a life together. If she hadn't come along, you and I both know your father and I would have remained married.”

Chase studied his mother, aware she was trying a little too hard to get him on her side.

“I've got to go back downstairs and circulate, darling, and so should you.”

Before he could stop her, she dashed off and slipped inside the elevator across the hall. The doors shut. The elevator started down.

Chase started after her, feeling frustrated and abandoned. His parents' divorce had never made sense to him, coming out of the blue the way it had. With Hope in the picture, marrying his father so soon afterward, he had never thought to question whose fault it was. He had known it was his father's fault. It had to be.

But now, mulling over Hope's temper-inspired remarks and his mother's shocked, guilty reaction, he had to wonder. Maybe Hope was right. Maybe he had been living with much less than the full story all these years. Maybe it was time he discovered the truth for himself.

 

H
OURS LATER
, Chase sat in the store basement, surrounded by Edmond's personal papers and files. He had been right; his father hadn't thrown away anything. It was all right here in front of Chase. There were logs of every business trip his father had taken, notes from clients and colleagues, sales projections, scribbled notes of Edmond's hopes for the future, and notes about a store they'd funded in Oregon in 1963 that had failed. There were calendars, schedules, and expense records.

Chase had to admit that some of the evidence was damning. Prior to the divorce, Edmond had enjoyed a series of lunches for two that were recorded on the credit card he kept for personal use. There was no name on any of the calendars, only the name of the restaurant where he would be lunching.

If it had been a business lunch, Edmond would have recorded it. If it had been an innocent personal lunch with a male acquaintance, Chase felt sure that would have been recorded, too. But it hadn't been.

Chase walked back to the cabinet and pulled out another stack of files from the year Edmond had divorced Rosemary. More bits of paper fell out. Edmond had been a meticulous note keeper, he just hadn't known how to file, and for fear something important would be accidentally thrown away, he hadn't let his secretary touch anything private. Probably everyone had forgotten the notes were here. Even Hope.

Chase stopped when a lavender piece of stationery fell out from between two hotel receipts. The handwriting was bold and perfect. He knew, even before he started reading, to whom it belonged.

Chase stared at the passionately penned words, feeling sick inside.

Hope had said again and again that she hadn't broken up his parents' marriage. Looking at this, it was hard to believe.

Tossing the letter aside, he glanced at the hotel receipts. He frowned, reading the addresses. Cleveland! What the hell had his father been doing in Cleveland? They didn't have any stores there. And what was this? A bill from the Cleveland Clinic, made out in his father's name? Quickly he sorted through the papers. To his frustration, there was nothing else. Then he found a receipt for a two and a half week stay the winter before his parents' divorce. The clinic had charged his father's insurance company twenty-three thousand dollars.

Obviously, Chase thought, his father'd had surgery.

But what kind? And why hadn't he told Chase anything about it? Had either of his parents been honest with him ever?

“Any word from Chase?” Steve Supack asked Hope late Monday evening.

“No,” Hope said. She was worried and very physically exhausted. The store had closed two hours ago, but she had yet to clear her desk enough to even think about going home.

“I thought Chase was going to be here for the sale,” Leigh Olney said. She made herself comfortable in the chair opposite Hope's desk.

“I thought so, too,” Hope admitted. Especially since Chase knew their All New Barrister's sale could make or break not only the store, but her future as store president as well. But she hadn't seen Chase since last night. She'd left him with his mother. And she hadn't seen him since.

“Anyone ask Rosemary where he is?” Steve asked.

“I don't think she knows, either,” Leigh put in. “She asked me if I had seen or heard from him three separate times today.”

Steve frowned. “I thought he was more into Barrister's than that, although maybe, considering the way the first day of the sale went, it's good he's not breathing down our necks with the devoted regularity of his mother. Did you see the totals?”

Hope nodded grimly. “Yes. We didn't get anywhere near the figure we were aiming for.”

“But it has been the best day we've done so far this year,” Leigh pointed out optimistically.

“I don't think that's going to be enough for the Board of Directors,” Hope said. Or for Rosemary.

“Well, cheer up,” Leigh said. “We've still got three days of
the sale left and with the word of mouth of customers who were here today, who knows?”

“She's got a point,” Steve said, loosening his tie. “Credit card applications were up forty percent today.”

That, Hope hadn't known. It was a fact she could use to her benefit when she faced the Board again. “That is encouraging.”

 

T
HE GUEST HOUSE
lights were on when she pulled in the driveway. If Chase had wanted to see me, he would have been at the store today, she told herself firmly. But the effort to warn herself away from potential hurt failed. She needed to see Chase as much as she wanted to talk to him. There would be no resting until she did.

Not bothering to go to the main house first, Hope walked down to the guest house. Chase opened the door before she even had a chance to knock. In jeans and soft cotton crewneck sweater, he looked as unhappy as she felt. Suddenly, she didn't know where to begin. She only knew she was hurt. He had avoided her so deliberately, not just last night, but today as well. Drawing in a deep breath, she said, “We missed you at the store today.”

Shrugging, he sauntered back into his living room, leaving her to shut the door behind her and follow at will. “I had some thinking to do.”

Although she had been terribly worried when she had started for the guest house, his dismissing tone and unlaudable attitude sparked the beginnings of her temper. It had been a long two days. “We were counting on you to help out last night,” she said. “People know you're in town again and were looking for you. It was awkward, covering for you.”

Chase spun toward her, and was surprised at how fragile she looked. Despite his anger, he wanted to reach out to her. And that surprised him, although it shouldn't have. His feelings for her had always been mixed. He'd hated her secrecy, yet yearned to know more. He'd detested her overwhelming need for financial security, yet understood it, given her background. He'd admired her loyalty to his father even while he had jealously wished they had never married, never mind so happily, so the way would have been clear for him.

He had to face it. There had been no other woman who had
ever brought him such conflicting emotions, or such deep yearning need, for she made him acutely aware of all that was missing from his life and hers. She made him want to do something about that need. Something that would change them both forever. Something they'd both regret.

Fighting that need, Chase let his surly glance take in the silkiness of her fair skin above the V-neck of her silk blouse and blazer and the trim curves of her hips beneath the slim lines of her skirt. She was one hell of a woman, his Hope. Looking at her, he could understand very well why his father had wanted her. But feeling an urge, no matter how powerful, didn't make it right, he told himself firmly. Slowly he released a long breath and let his glance return to her face. Clearly she still expected an apology. “Sorry,” he drawled with a careless shrug meant to infuriate. “It couldn't be helped.”

She tried hard to keep the edginess out of her low voice. Something had happened, something bad, for him to be this upset. “What's going on, Chase?”

He case her an ironic look. “Suppose you tell me,” he said in a surprisingly silky voice. “You're the expert on lying and hiding and covering up.”

At the casually thrown insult, her heart seemed to stop.

“I went through my father's papers last night.” The accusing look on Chase's face put her every nerve and her every sense of self-preservation on full alert. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a piece of lavender stationery. “Recognize this?”

Yes, Hope did. It was the first, and only, letter she had ever sent to Edmond. It had been written straight from the heart and meant for Edmond's eyes alone. Realizing Chase had made her words into something sordid instead of interpreting them in the genuinely platonic way they were meant, she snatched the single piece of lavender stationery from him. Embarrassed color flooded her cheeks. “This was private.”

Chase laughed softly, and then snatched the letter back. “I'll bet it
was
private.” He was damned if he could remember when a woman had ever made him so furious or light-headed or driven out of control.

He came so close to her she could smell the faint tang of after-shave mixed with the headier male scent of his skin. His gaze insolently scanned her face in a way that he knew annoyed her.
After what he had learned about her, she deserved to be looked at in that way. Whether she was willing to admit it to herself or not, he told himself sternly, she had sold herself to the highest bidder. “What else did the two of you have to hide, Hope?” he prodded. His voice was uncharacteristically cool. “Want to tell me?”

She swallowed. He wasn't in the mood to listen to anything she said. Panic edged her voice, even as she sought to control it. “I can see this isn't the time for us to talk.” She shoved her shaking hands into the pockets of her blazer. “I'll come back another time.”

He moved in front of the door, and found he couldn't be logical or objective. His look was lazy, predatory and determined. He countered, “Wrong again, Hope. I think it's the perfect time.”

She held her body tense. “You're upset.”

“You're damn right about that and with good reason.” He looked deep into Hope's eyes, the more pragmatic side of him needed and wanted to hear her side of things, even if he didn't believe her or agree with her. Why had she gone after a man who was old enough to be her father? Chase had to know if she knew about his father's trip to the Cleveland Clinic. “Did you know about his illness?” he bit out tersely, hoping she didn't.

Hope's eyes widened with shock. “What are you talking about?” she asked cautiously.

Chase's gut told him she knew damn well exactly what he was talking about. “His visit to the Cleveland Clinic,” Chase enunciated clearly, with what little patience he had left. “I found the bills, Hope. I know he had some sort of hospital stay, but I don't know for what. You were close to him during that time. Do you know what all that was about?”

A shadow passed over Hope's face, and again Chase had the sharp sensation of being shut out, of being lied to.

“No,” she said finally, the lie slicing at her with brutal force.

Chase stared at her in mute frustration. She was hiding something again. Who was she protecting? Edmond? What could be so terrible that they wouldn't want him to know? Had Hope come into Edmond's life at a terribly vulnerable time, when his father wasn't healthy enough to make a sound judgment about his marriage or an extramarital affair? Was that what she didn't want him to know? Or was it something worse?

Again, she moved toward the door, her dignity intact. And again, he moved as if to stop her. “Chase, please, I don't want to talk about this anymore,” she whispered. The strain of her long day showed on her face. She held up both hands in silent plea. “It's not going to help anything. You've got to stop asking me for the truth when you know I've already told you all that I can.”

Chase knew she was vulnerable now. He was close to tearing down the walls she had built up around her heart, but he felt no satisfaction, only a growing sense of frustration and hurt, at having been shut out by her. “I won't stop, Hope,” he whispered, slowly closing the distance between them. “Just like I won't give you any more time to think up any more lies. This time—” he touched her shoulders before she could step past him “—you're going to tell me the truth.”

Her heart was a thundering roar in her ears. “I've told you the truth!”

“You told me you loved him,” Chase countered harshly, keeping his hold firm so she couldn't move away. “You didn't tell me he was
everything
to you.”

“He
was
everything to me, then!” Hope countered hotly. She splayed both her palms against Chase's chest. “But even so, I—” Hope stopped and bit her lip, hard. Pushing away from him, she flushed scarlet and wouldn't meet his eyes.

Chase saw the change in her face. With mounting disappointment he knew, in that instant, she'd stopped being open and honest with him. And he was determined to get her back into a truth-telling frame of mind, even if he had to goad her into it unmercifully. “Dammit, Hope,” he bit out, tossing the note aside, “you told me you didn't break up my parents'—”

“I didn't!”

“Then what the hell do you call this?” He grabbed the note and waved it at her furiously. “If it's not interference, what is?” When she remained stubbornly silent, his fury mounted. “Are you going to deny the passion you felt for him, too?”

She clamped her arms, one over the other. “I told you.” She underscored each word with heavy emphasis. “Our relationship wasn't like that.”

His face filled with disbelief. Hope's face was only inches from his own. “Oh, really? And what constitutes passion in your view, Hope? Does a touch? A kiss?” He pulled her to him, gave her a
long, level look, then watched as she stood there like an ice goddess. Suddenly, she seemed too good, too pure, for anything as base as greed. He desperately wanted answers but he also wanted her—badly. Knowing how much he wanted her, only added fuel to the flame. He suspected she wanted him, too. And he was determined to get her in touch with her feelings and his if it was the only thing he ever managed. “Was it okay to make love with him as long as you didn't feel anything in return?”

Hope struggled against him. “You have no right—” she whispered.

But Chase knew, feeling as he did about her, he had every right. “What about this?” He slanted his lips over hers. All the yearning need he had held back was surging to the surface.

Needing something solid to hang on to, she reached out to him. She found herself slipping ever deeper into the abyss, being seduced by the promise of a deep, lingering kiss, of the safety and warmth and pleasure of his arms.

“Is this passionate enough for you, Hope?” His mouth touched hers, ever so lightly, barely brushing it, and his breath mingled with hers. “Or this?” he whispered, feeling her tremble as he parted her lips with his own. She shuddered, her legs buckling as her body went fluid against the length of his. He pushed her up against the wall, sliding his tongue between her lips, drinking deep as his fingers skimmed along her cheekbones. “Or this?”

Hope moaned. Suddenly it was all too much. Too much feeling, too much passion, and too much sensation. She melted against him in total surrender and wreathed her arms around his neck. That was all the permission, all the encouragement, he needed.

He kissed her as though he meant to go on kissing her forever. His lips made her feel incredibly alive, wanted and cherished. With a moan of pleasure, she shifted against him and surrendered a little more. Then a little more, until they were both breathless. Pulses pounding, they broke apart and stared at each other, stunned and a little in awe.

She knew if he kissed her again, her reason would leave her and there would be no escape. Need stirred inside her, not quite under control. Without a thought to consequences, she wrapped her arms around him.

This was how he had wanted her from the moment he'd been back, Chase thought. He felt weak with pleasure, drugged with
desire, and open to anything. And she was open to him. Pulling her closer, he trailed his lips over her jaw to her throat, tasting the softness and flavor of her skin.

Hope felt the shudder start deep inside her. It was followed swiftly by a fire that refused to be quenched. Sunshine swept into her soul. She felt free and recklessly wild, as she had never been in her youth. “Chase,” she whispered softly, molding her lips to his. “Oh, Chase.”

She felt his fingers tangle in her hair and closed her eyes, giving herself up to the raw jumble of feelings, to the overpowering need to be with him, to be loved. She yearned to discover the generosity she'd never known and always been denied. She felt the desire to give of herself, to give to Chase, as never before.

Chase had never meant to go this far, but now that she was in his arms, responding, he couldn't seem to stop himself any more than she could. “I want you,” he whispered, the words seeming to burn his throat. “God help me, I want you.”

“I want you, too.” For her, the past no longer mattered. It was finally over and done with. She was ready to move on with her life.