Change of Heart (15 page)

Chelsea made a face at the doorway and said, “He’s Venezuelan, not Brazilian.” She picked up her phone and reread Eli’s email. It was very plain, just saying he’d purchased a house in Edilean and asking if she would please visit. That’s all. No dates, no mention of where she was to stay, nothing.

But then, Eli wouldn’t think of those things. He was the genius; she was the practical one.

The next few days were miserable! Chelsea’s mother hardly spoke to her and her dad looked at her with big, sad eyes. He too had liked Eli.

Chelsea couldn’t take it. Her parents’ disapproval combined with the fact that no boyfriend came after her broke her. She’d thought this one was different, that she was seeing a future past looking good. She’d been involved in his business. She’d set up a website for him.
She
was the one who’d found out his accountant was embezzling from him. Didn’t any of that count? And the truth was, as exciting as her life was, it wasn’t fulfilling her. She wanted to
do
something, but she didn’t know what. “Okay!” she yelled at breakfast. “I’ll go!”

Immediately, her father put down his newspaper and smiled at her, and her mother asked if she wanted blueberries in her pancakes.

Chelsea had a whole day of being the best-loved daughter in the world, then the next day she awoke to see her mother in her bedroom packing a suitcase.

“I think you should take this.” She held up a little black dress with a low neckline and spaghetti straps.

“Mother, what are you doing? It’s six a.m.”

“Your father and I thought you should get an early start. And we think you should drive so you’ll have your own car with you.” She opened the chest of drawers. “You should definitely take this.” She held up a black-and-red corset with matching panties.

“Mother!” Chelsea said in shock. “I can choose my own clothes.”

“Of course you can. Shall I make a lunch for you to take on the road? I bought Eli some of those sugared almonds he always liked so much. Remember how he used to eat them by the handful? It always puzzled me why that child was so thin. But now he’s all grown up so I’m sure he’s better.”

“Mother,” Chelsea said as she threw back the covers.

Her mother was at the door. “Don’t take too long to pack, dear. Your breakfast will get cold.”

Chelsea knew when her welcome was over. After all, it had been her parents who’d listened and sympathized after every breakup she’d been through. No matter how many times she tried to explain to them that she was searching for . . . for . . . She didn’t know what, just that she’d know when she found it. But they never seemed to understand.

She took two days to drive to Virginia, and being alone in her car gave her time to think. And what she tried to plan was how to get out of this meeting with her childhood friend but at the same time placate her parents.

Never once did she consider that it might work between her and Eli, not as a friendship and certainly not as anything else. Too much time had passed and besides, they were two different people. It had worked when they were children because they were both outcasts, different from the other kids. But now . . .

Now Eli was some kind of big-deal government genius—she’d met a general’s assistant who’d told her that—and she was . . . Well, she hadn’t yet decided what she was, but she liked adventure in her life. If they met now, they’d just sit around and stare at each other, with nothing to say. And of course Eli would look at her with those eyes that penetrated and want to know why she hadn’t continued to correspond with him. No matter what lie she made up, he would be hurt—and it would be her fault.

So now she was sitting at a little table at the back of the grocery, sliced turkey and raw carrots before her, and an open map in her hand. She had on a floppy-brim hat that nearly covered her face and a trench coat that concealed the rest of her.

She was about to take a bite when in walked a man who looked exactly like Eli had as a kid. He was the same height and his face was nearly the same.

Smiling, she looked down at her plate and again wondered what Eli looked like now.

“Eli!” she heard and looked up as the man stopped to look down an aisle. Not possible! she thought. This couldn’t actually be Eli! She put a menu in front of her face and looked around it.

He’s happy, she thought, and was glad of it. As a child, before his mother remarried, he’d been quite morose—which was understandable considering his home situation.

Chelsea watched him go to the deli counter. For all that he was very thin and looked like he could play Huckleberry Finn, there was a swagger in his walk that was kind of appealing. Maybe it was his adoptive father who’d done that.

As Eli stood there waiting to give his order, he looked around the store. There was a pretty red-haired girl to one side, and he smiled at her in such an inviting way that Chelsea nearly giggled.

When his wandering eyes got near Chelsea, she put the menu up in front of her face. He had changed! she thought. Maybe his looks were the same and he’d never be someone who’d set a woman on fire with lust, but he might be good company. The intensity of the young Eli that she’d been dreading seemed to be gone. Thank you, Frank and Miranda Taggert, she thought, and started to stand up.
This
was a man she could say hello to.

But when a second man walked up to stand beside Eli, Chelsea sat back down.

Hot! was all she could think. He was tall, towering over Eli, had longish dark hair, and a beautiful, chiseled face. He had on a black T-shirt that clung to a muscular, perfectly shaped body, then jeans that showed well-toned legs, down to a pair of heavy boots. Unfortunately,
he
—not skinny Eli—was the kind of man she always went after.

Chelsea couldn’t help staring at the man in the black T-shirt. Who was he? Eli’s bodyguard?

She watched Eli say something to the man, then he went to sit at a table, where he opened a leather notebook and began to write. He was two tables away from her, but the one separating them was empty. He really was one of the most beautiful men she’d ever seen.

“Eli?” the skinny guy at the counter said. When there was no response, he said louder, “Eli!”

The dark-haired man looked up.

“Do you want mustard or mayo?” the thin one asked.

“Mustard,” he said in a deep, rich voice, then went back to his notebook.

Chelsea’s mouth dropped open. Eli? This gorgeous creature was
Eli
?

When did he—? How did he—?

She couldn’t collect her thoughts. Vaguely, she remembered that long ago Eli had told her how weird his new father’s relatives were. “They spend so many hours in a gym they look like draft horses.” The two of them had laughed in that way children do because they know everything.

But it looked like somewhere along the way he had visited a gym. Often.

When Chelsea stood up, she found that her knees were weak and her hands were shaking. She could hardly pick up her bag. She didn’t dare look around for fear one of the men would see her.

Somehow, she managed to get out of the store. As soon as she was outside, she paused to take a few breaths. Coming toward her was a big man in a tan uniform and a leather jacket. There was a sheriff’s badge on his chest.

“Excuse me,” she said and he stopped.

“Welcome to Edilean and how can I help you?”

She smiled at him, the flirty smile she’d learned to use when she wanted something from a man. But this man didn’t so much as react, just waited for her to continue. His badge said Colin Frazier. “I was wondering if you might know someone named Eli Harcourt.”

“I do.” His voice was cautious.

“I don’t mean to pry, but I haven’t seen Eli since we were teenagers, and I just saw . . . Well . . .” She didn’t know how to ask without sounding like a stalker. Pulling her wallet out of her bag, she removed an old photo from the hidden compartment. It was of her and Eli on their bikes. She was on her way to being the beauty she’d become, while he was scrawny and nerdy-looking.

Sheriff Frazier took the photo and looked at it. “This is Eli? He looks like Jeff.”

“Who is Jeff?”

Sheriff Frazier frowned. “I don’t give out information about Edilean residents.”

“Okay then, who’s the best gossip in town?”

For the first time, the sheriff smiled. “I’m not about to tell you that. Why do you want to know?”

“Eli invited me for a visit and I just saw him in the grocery, but then he called the other guy Eli. I found it all quite confusing.”

“I see,” the sheriff said. “You want to know who is who. Eli’s the pretty one. His assistant, Jeff, is the skinny one who makes everybody laugh. That answer your question?”

“Oh, yes. But please don’t mention to either of them that I asked.”

“I wouldn’t think of it,” he said and went into the store.

Eli had a wheelbarrow full of gardening tools and was using the loppers to cut away a big shrub at the corner of the house. He’d bought the place completely furnished. A couple had built it about twenty years ago, thinking they’d live there forever. But as they got older, the two acres of grounds had been more than they’d wanted to handle, so they’d bought a condo in Florida. As always, Jeff had befriended them and ended up buying everything in the house—which is why the garage was full of old garden tools and inside was worn, but comfortable, furniture.

It was early in the season but it was a warm day so Eli had removed his shirt. He should have been inside at his computer but he was too nervous to sit still.

Chelsea would be here soon and he needed time to think about what he wanted to say to her. Originally, first on his list was to ask why she’d stopped writing him.

But Jeff had vetoed that. “You can
not
start an interrogation of her the second she gets out of the car!” he’d nearly yelled.

“I would just like to know—”

Jeff had thrown up his hands in frustration. “She was sixteen and beautiful and rich. That’s all the excuse she needed not to keep up some deep, philosophical letter-writing campaign with the kid she used to ride a bike with.”

“We did more than that!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jeff said. “I’ve heard all about it. But it was a different time back then. If you illegally used corporate letterhead today, you’d be facing charges. You two were white-collar juvenile delinquents.”

“I guess we were.” Eli said. “Robin and Marian Les Jeunes.”

“I want you to swear that you will not question her. Just have
fun
.”

“Fun?” Eli asked.

“Tell me you’ve heard of it.”

“Of course. Chelsea and I always had a good time together.”

“Figuring out about a kid’s dental health care is
not
a ‘good time.’ ” Jeff was glaring at his boss. In the last months he’d done a lot of research on Chelsea Hamilton. It hadn’t taken much to learn about her penchant for polo players, race-car drivers, and Olympic skiers. Lots of excitement. Not a computer nerd anywhere to be seen.

He looked at Eli, standing in his jeans and T-shirt, and thought that he certainly looked the part of the man Chelsea would like—except for his expression. He was scowling in a way that was almost scary. “Too bad you couldn’t be me on the inside,” Jeff mumbled.

“What?” Eli asked.

“I said it was a shame you and I couldn’t do one of those
Freaky Friday
exchanges. If I had your looks and body along with my humor and way with women, I’d have a harem in minutes.”

Eli grimaced. “Then you’d have a dozen women complaining that you never pay any attention to them.”

“No,” Jeff said. “
You
have heard women say that, but not one of them has said it to
me
.”

Eli smiled. “Then I wish we could trade. I’d do most anything to get Chelsea to stay, even if it’s only for a few days.”

Jeff shook his head. “You do have it bad, don’t you? Okay, my advice is to lighten up. Act like you haven’t compared every girl you’ve ever met to her and found her to be lacking. Pretend that seeing Chelsea is nice but not some monumental event that you hope will change your entire life.” His head came up. “You haven’t bought her a ring, have you?”

“I thought we’d go together to look at—”

Again, Jeff threw up his hands. “That poor girl. If I were her, I’d never get near you again. I wonder why she agreed to this visit?”

Eli frowned. “Maybe she wants to see me as much as I do her.”

“I doubt it,” Jeff said and was glad when his phone rang. “It’s Pilar and she says she needs to talk to you.”

“Tell her I’ll call her back later.”

Jeff relayed the message, but after he hung up, he said, “You ought to be nicer to Pilar. If Chelsea falls through, your secretary is a great backup. I don’t know why she stays around you.”

Eli shrugged in dismissal. “I’m going to get a beer. You want one?”

“No thanks,” Jeff said. “I’m watching my figure.”

His joke cleared the air and they were back on good terms. Actually, Chelsea was their only real bone of contention.