Guilty Like Us, page 15
Of course, Rogan must be thinking of his father and how the man lost everything, including his life, to a fraud. “Okay then, talk to your wives and let’s see what they can find out about Daniel Reese.”
“Will do.” Luke sat back in his chair, thrummed his fingers against the tabletop, and said, “Guess that only leaves one question. What are you going to tell or not tell our sister? Will Charlotte be involved in the plan?” His lips twitched, pulled into a full-blown grin. “I mean, it’s your choice, but if you do decide to leave Charlotte out of this thing, let me know.” His laugh shot across the table, pummeled Tate’s brain. “I want tickets to the blowout because it is going to be one hell of a match.”
Tate didn’t want to include his wife because she wasn’t the most logical or even-tempered person in situations like this. Of course, he had to be the one to tell her why she wouldn’t be included since he valued his marriage, and because she was the most important person in his world. Still, that didn’t mean the choice for the implementation would be easy or welcome. He decided the sooner he told her, the better his chances she wouldn’t find out from anyone else—like Luke. They might be brothers-in-law, bordering on friends, but Luke still loved a good brawl and no doubt he’d consider this a good one.
Chapter 22
There was no sense putting off talking to Charlotte, not when Tate had limited time to do the talking. That was the thing about his wife; she happened upon situations because she talked to everybody and if a conversation sparked her interest or curiosity—and pretty much everything did—then she’d ask more questions, and sometimes even find out answers she didn’t want to know. But she would want to know Helena and Elizabeth planned to invite Meredith to see their babies, and while it might appear innocent and baby-driven on the surface, Charlotte would sniff out the truth faster than their dog Winston on a bacon hunt.
So, he had to tell her because no way was Tate having his wife find out about it on her own, or that it had been his idea to exclude her. He doubted she’d understand or agree with his decision and that’s why he asked Rogan to invite his mother to dinner. Tate needed an evening alone with Charlotte to tell her and deal with the fallout because no doubt there would be fallout. Maybe flowers and a chocolate lava cake would lessen the disaster. He picked up a bouquet of pink tulips and a chocolate lava cake on his way home, grateful that this week Charlotte was not calorie counting.
He sighed, wished his wife would accept the notion of calories in and calories out, but that only lasted until the next sweet caught her eye. When he arrived at his temporary home, a.k.a. the Donovan homestead, he grabbed the tulips and the box with the cake and bounded up the steps and into the house in search of his wife. He found her in the living room, sitting on the floor with Winston, a dog catalog resting on her lap.
She smiled when she spotted him. “Hey there.”
He would never stop being grateful for the day she agreed to be his wife. Tate closed the distance between them, bent toward her. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.” She stroked his cheek, kissed him.
Winston decided he wanted attention and wiggled his way between them. Tate grinned, rubbed the dog’s ears. “Good boy. Are you taking care of Mom?”
“Of course, he is.” She eyed the bouquet and the box. “What do we have here?”
“Flowers for my wife—” he offered her the bouquet “—and a little something sweet.”
“Oh, let me guess.” Her eyes lit up, her voice dipped and she laughed when he lifted the cover of the chocolate lava cake.
“For dessert,” he murmured, leaning in for another kiss. “Maybe we’ll eat it in bed...naked...”
“Like we did in Chicago.”
Visions of that unforgettable night swirled through his brain, made him think about skipping dinner, and heading to bed with his wife and the cake. “Yeah, just like that.”
“Mom made white chicken chili for dinner.” She loosened his tie, ran a finger along the collar of his shirt. “It’s a one-dish meal...easy clean-up.”
“I like the sound of that.” He checked his watch, calculated the time it would take to eat and do dishes.
“Or—” she unbuttoned the first button of his shirt, started on the second “—we could have our desserts first and dinner later.”
“Desserts?” He needed to talk with her about the meeting he’d had with her brothers because—
“Desserts, silly.” She laughed, trailed her fingers from his chest to his belly. “There’s the chocolate lava cake...” Charlotte leaned toward him, reached for his belt buckle. “And then there’s my favorite kind...I call it the husband dessert.”
He should have stopped her, should have insisted they have their “conversation” first and if she were still in the mood after, then that was fair. But he didn’t because Tate had never been able to resist his wife, especially not when she looked at him like he was the chocolate lava cake.
A long while later, Tate fed Charlotte the last spoonful of chocolate lava cake. She’d decided weeks ago that if she left out the ice cream, she could shave off some of the guilt. Sure, fine, whatever made her happy. He smiled at her, said in a soft voice, “Good?”
She ran a hand along his naked belly, her expression relaxed and calm, like it always was after they made love. “Better than good. Both of the desserts.”
The sex was always good and how could you go wrong with a chocolate lava cake, even if you didn’t have the ice cream? Put the two together—the sex followed by the cake—and how could you ever be disappointed? “I’ll keep that in mind, but I hope I don’t have to bring a dessert to bed every time I want to be with you.”
Her laughter spilled over him, touched his heart. “Trust me, you’re sweet enough.”
And now for the part he dreaded. Tate cleared his throat, trailed a hand along her hip and held her gaze. “We need to talk.”
“We do?”
He nodded. “We do, and we should have done it before we came to bed.”
She tensed. “How convenient for you we didn’t.”
“It’s not like that. I love you...and I’m sorry.” He should have pushed her hands away and insisted they talk before landing in bed. Of course, it was so easy to say when she wasn’t undressing him and calling him dessert.
“Just tell me what it is.”
“It’s about Meredith.”
“Meredith? Oh, that’s not so bad.” She bit her bottom lip. “I was worried it was going to be something more serious… Something about us.”
“Charlotte, you own my heart, how could there ever be anything wrong between us?” If he didn’t confess to what he’d done now, there would be a problem. “We’ve promised to always be honest and I won’t break that promise—” he cupped her chin, kissed her “—even when what I have to say is not going to make you happy.”
“Tate, what are you talking about? What does any of this have to do with Meredith?”
“It involves Meredith and your brothers.”
“My brothers?”
She scrunched her nose, rubbed her temples, and blinked, something she did when she was processing words and possibilities. It didn’t necessarily mean she was upset. No, an upset look from Charlotte involved glares, huffs, pinched lips, and was often accompanied by a mumbled curse word or two. And because she never wanted him to misinterpret her level of unhappiness, she’d tell him in a not-so-quiet voice. Tate was glad they were moving into their own home next month because Rose Donovan was a sweet soul who tried to stay out of her children’s business, but when Charlotte went on a rampage, it was impossible to ignore. “I asked them to meet me this afternoon.”
“Oh. So, what about Meredith?” She sat up in bed, oblivious to her nakedness and toyed with a lock of hair. His gaze slid from her fingers to her breasts, to her belly... “Tate? Focus. What about Meredith?”
“Something’s going on with her and Daniel Reese. A guy doesn’t just leave Chicago and hitch a ride home with a woman he’s just met to visit family. Not a guy like that.”
“You mean a guy on the hunt? Like you were?”
Tate shrugged, preferred not to think back on those days when he had more fears than brains. “I came back to take care of my father’s business after his stroke, but I was homed in on you for years.”
“Years?” She stroked his thigh, smiled.
Charlotte loved to hear how he’d been tormented for months by memories of the sizzling night they shared in Chicago, one that involved desire, passion, and a chocolate lava cake. “Definitely. I was just too stupid to realize it and once I did, too foolish to admit it.”
“Yes, you were, but I was just as foolish.” Her green eyes sparkled. “I’m so glad we’re past that. So, you think Daniel Reese has a thing for Meredith?”
“I’m not sure if he has a thing for her or if he has a thing for her money, but I’m going to find out and your brothers are going to help me.”
“Meredith is such a sweet soul, but she is a bit too trusting. How can I help? There’s got to be something I can do. I could invite her over to visit Winston and see what I can find out. Women always know.” Her voice shifted, turned gentle. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”
“Charlotte, hold on.” Tate clasped her hand, held her gaze. “I talked to your brothers and the plan is for Helena and Elizabeth to invite her to see the babies and see what she shares.”
“Oh. Then you don’t need my help.” Pause. “Or you don’t want my help?”
This was the kind of question he didn’t want to answer yet had to because he would not lie to his wife. “We just thought maybe it would be better—”
“Whose idea was it? Was it Luke’s? He might be married and have a baby and a decent job, but there are moments when he’s still pure Luke and he likes to torment and antagonize. Though, it could be Rogan. He’s so stuffy sometimes.”
“It wasn’t Luke or Rogan. It was me.”
“You? You don’t want my help?”
The hurt on her face pierced his soul. He tried to find the right words to explain what he’d done and why. “I don’t want Meredith to find out what we’re doing and I can’t afford a slip-up. If the guy’s really who he says he is, then okay. We’ll just make sure he can’t get at Meredith’s money. Right now, I don’t know anything about him other than what he’s told us and what she said, and I’m not sure I completely believe either one of them.”
Those green eyes turned bright, brighter still and when Charlotte spoke, her voice wobbled. “Sure. Fine, sounds like a good plan. Guess you’ve got it all figured out.”
Chapter 23
When Elizabeth Donovan contacted Meredith about a luncheon at her home, Meredith accepted even before she learned Luke Donovan’s wife would be there as well. She’d heard a lot about these two women and couldn’t wait to meet them. Rogan had been every girl’s crush in high school and goodness, a grown-up Rogan Donovan was hard to resist. He was definitely one of the good guys and Tate assured her Elizabeth was the perfect match for him. And a baby? Could life get any sweeter? According to her brother, they were building a life together, and while the early parts of their fairytale story included a few stumbles, they’d found their way back to each other and were as solid as the foundation in Tate’s soon-to-be new home.
Helena Donovan had an equally curious backstory and if a person understood basic math, she was pregnant before she and Luke got married. Luke Donovan, bad boy of Reunion Gap: wild, reckless, uncatchable. Was he still all of those or had his wife tamed him? Shown him the path to commitment and given him a reason to settle down? There were so many questions.
Observation was the key and Meredith planned to do just that—when she wasn’t cuddling the babies. The Alexanders were not known for cuddles or baby holding, or singing… No storytelling… No soothing… Be tough, stay strong, don’t fall apart, and do not show your real emotions… That had always been Harrison Alexander’s mantra and they’d tried to follow it, even at the young age of eight when a child should not be concerned with appearances and decorum. Their mother had provided rays of sunshine when she was able, but her fragile state and subservience to their father made her attempts inadequate. Tate was the one who saved Meredith, saved their mother and brother; he saved them all.
And now, Charlotte Donovan Alexander had saved him, shown him unconditional love and joy and the ultimate sense of belonging. There’d been no mention of Charlotte attending the luncheon and when Meredith arrived, she wasn’t there. The flutter of hugging, chatter, and baby holding that followed made her forget about her sister-in-law’s absence.
“You’re certainly a natural,” Helena said as she watched Meredith cuddle her sleeping daughter.
“I don’t have much experience with babies or children, but oh, they are so very special.” She stroked the baby’s silky curls. “They offer such hope and a chance for new beginnings.”
“One day you’ll hold a baby of your own.”
Meredith glanced at Rogan’s wife. Class and good breeding clung to her like a shiny lip gloss. “Maybe, but I think that would require a little help.” She meant a partner, though her comment wasn’t necessarily true. There were women who opted for a pregnancy without the man. It was possible, acceptable, and for some women, preferable. But when the time for a baby came—
“So… There’s no man? No potential man?” Helena smiled, slid in another question. “No hopefuls on the shortlist?”
Daniel flashed through her brain, skidded to a stop. Meredith lifted a shoulder, kept her voice even and noncommittal. “I’m still trying to understand myself, so…”
“So?”
Helena was over-the-top inquisitive. Tate said she wrote greeting card cards about love, hope, and second chances. Well, she certainly seemed homed in on happily ever after—and not just her own. “So, that’s where I am right now.” She glanced at the women seated across from her, asked the question that had been resting in her brain since she arrived and noticed her sister-in-law’s absence. “Where’s Charlotte? I’d hoped she’d be here. It’s always such a pleasure to see her.” Oh, she didn’t miss the way Elizabeth fidgeted with her necklace, and had Helena’s face turned three shades paler?
Something was going on and that something involved Charlotte.
“Yes, sorry she’s not here.” Elizabeth shifted in her chair, looked away.
A nod, a throat clearing from Helena, followed by “Yes, it’s always wonderful to see Charlotte, especially when she and Tate are together. So happy, so in love, so perfect for each other.” More throat clearing and then “I wouldn’t be surprised if they were the next ones to have a baby announcement.”
Possibly. She’d love to be an aunt, but that was not the question she’d asked. No, she’d been poking around the reason behind Charlotte’s absence, which both women sidestepped with great skill. Hmm. She couldn’t very well ask Tate why his wife had been excluded today, so she’d have to observe and see if she could piece together an answer that made sense—something that looked like the truth.
Daniel took an afternoon run along the back roads leading out of Reunion Gap. Running cleared his head almost as much as walking in the woods. It gave him time to unwind and let his brain process all of the thoughts going on in the background. He’d come up with a new design for a collection he’d begun sketching last night. The lines had a fair amount of curves and reminded him of Meredith and their afternoon in the woods. There’d been a slight breeze that day, the leaves shifting and shimmering above as the sun filtered through a tangle of branches, danced on the bark of a huge oak tree...illuminated Meredith’s face.
One perfect moment.
He’d already thought of a name for the collection: “The Meredith”. Yeah, she’d like that, and what would she say when he told her she’d been the inspiration for it? That would definitely make her happy. Daniel spent the next mile considering the woods he’d use, how he’d layer alternating dark and light pieces to resemble sunbeams filtering through leaves. By the time he finished his five-mile run, he’d even decided what the first vase in the collection would look like and what he’d call it: Destiny. Yeah, he liked that name, thought she would, too.
Damn, did that sound too much like cotton candy or a triple sugar rush? Ethan would hate it, call him a wimp, but who cared? This collection wasn’t for Ethan; it was for Meredith and his gut said she’d like it. A lot. He finished his run at the park, sank onto a bench and let the afternoon sun pour over him. Life had taken a strange turn with a few detours, but the most unexpected and welcome detour had black hair, blue eyes, and a heart the size of a Chicago pizza. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and thought about how life was finally beginning to make sense, how one person had changed—
“Excuse me, Daniel Reese?”
He opened his eyes, squinted at the woman standing four feet away in a ball cap, hoodie, and worn-out jeans. And were those work boots? “I am.”
She closed the distance between them, thrust out a hand. “Charlotte Alexander, nice to meet you.”
Charlotte Alexander. Tate’s wife. Daniel stood, shook her hand, noticed the firm grip, the look that said she was assessing every inch of him from the handshake to the sweaty clothes. “You’re Tate’s wife.”
Her face lit up, a smile inched across her lips. “Yes, I am. I heard you were in town.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know if we ever formally met other than high school.” Of course, he remembered her. Who didn’t? Auburn curls, green eyes, curvy figure, and a brother named Rogan, the hard-edged deterrent for any interested guy.
Charlotte Alexander stepped back, shoved her hands in her back pockets, nodded. “No, we haven’t but I’ve been hearing a lot about you. I thought I’d look you up and have a chat.”
