Love Will Find a Way (16 page)

Dylan stared at the photograph in bemusement. "But it was my house. It wasn't his house," he murmured. "Gary liked another one. It was all windows, glass from floor to ceiling, and overlooked the ocean. It was spectacular. That was the kind of house he wanted."

Dylan seemed lost in memories, his voice hushed, as if he were talking to himself and not to her. His words surprised her. Why had Gary chosen this house if it wasn't the house of his dreams?

Actually, she knew why. Because she'd stumbled upon the photograph and exclaimed with pleasure over how perfect and beautiful the house was. She'd shown the picture to Wesley and he'd loved it, too. They'd gotten so excited, so caught up in the picture, that Gary had begun to draw before they'd even finished talking.

He'd done it for her and for Wesley -- but for himself? Now, she wasn't so sure. Maybe the house of his dreams couldn't exist on the edge of an apple orchard in a small town. Maybe that's why he'd been willing to give in, because hadn't he given in already? Hadn't he joined her family in the Norman Rockwell painting? Or had he? He'd spent a lot of time in his apartment in the city. It was supposed to be a place to crash after a long day of work, but had it also been an escape?

Dylan handed her the picture. "I guess that's why the house felt familiar. Although I'm sure Gary added some special touches just for you, Rachel."

She nodded, her throat thick with emotion. What had been so clear before now seemed so muddled, from her house to the circumstances surrounding Gary's death. She slipped the photograph back into the folder. "You should get down to the barn.
 
I'm sure my grandfather is wondering where you are."

"What are you going to do?"

"Well, I'm not going to make any more calls, but I may dive into the filing cabinet before I lose my nerve."

He gave her a small smile. "Good luck."

"You, too. My grandfather is a card shark. Don't underestimate him."

"I won't." He paused at the door.
 
"Don't underestimate yourself, Rachel. You're stronger than you think. You'll figure it all out."

"I know I will. I'm just afraid I won't like what I find."

"But it will be the truth."

"It will be," she murmured.

With Dylan gone, the study seemed colder than before. Rachel gave a little shiver as she turned toward the filing cabinet. She yanked open the top drawer and ran her gaze along the file folders, looking for something; she just wasn't sure what.

"I want to know all your secrets," Carly said, leaning across the table. She gave Antonio her best sultry look, which apparently wasn't all that sultry, because it drew a smile instead of a kiss.

"What is this face you're making?" he asked. "Is the lemon tart too sour?"

She sat back in her seat and stared down at her dessert. "No, it's fine. I'm full from dinner. It was delicious."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." His perfectly even white teeth sparkled in the candlelight. He was truly a stunningly handsome man, olive skin, black eyes, an adorable cleft in his chin. And his clothes were exquisite. No one ever dressed up around Sebastopol, but Antonio wore a charcoal-gray Armani suit with a starched white shirt and a grossly expensive silk tie. She felt a bit underdressed in her simple black cocktail dress, but it was the only thing she had that was halfway sophisticated.

"Now, why do you speak of secrets?" he inquired. "You sound so mysterious."

"You're the mysterious one. But I like a man of mystery." Good heavens! Had that schmaltzy line just come out of her mouth? Well, she'd have to go with it. "You've lived all over the world. I bet you've known lots of women."

"A few." He smiled at her again, as if she was a mischievous child, and she frowned. This was not going at all the way she'd planned.

"How are your classes at college?" he asked, changing the subject. "Will you be graduating soon?"

"I have a few more courses to take, since I changed my major from history to business administration."

"An excellent major." He took a sip of his coffee. "No doubt it will be of much value in the operation of your orchards."

"I'm not planning to stay in the family business. I have other ideas."

"Really?" He lifted an eyebrow. "And your family approves of these ideas?"

"Of course; they're very supportive," she lied.

"I could never leave my family business. It is in my blood."

"But your business is so much more extensive than ours. You don't just operate wineries and vineyards -- you have other interests as well, isn't that right?"

"Yes." He snapped his fingers. "Ah, now I see where this is leading. You wish me to offer you employment after you graduate, no?"

"No!"

He looked taken aback by her emphatic denial.

"I mean, no," she said more softly. "I wouldn't ask that of you." She fell silent as Antonio's housekeeper entered to refill their coffee cups. She couldn't imagine having a servant. What an incredibly luxury. The only thing she'd had to do was open her napkin and place it in her lap -- her white linen napkin, not even paper. She felt like Cinderella meeting the prince. It was all a bit unreal.

"Then what would you ask?" Antonio said when his housekeeper had left. "I know you've been eager to speak to me. I'm sorry I wasn't able to return your messages this week. I had to go to San Francisco to attend some meetings."

"Oh, that's all right. I know you're very busy."

"Is something wrong, Carly? Is it your sister, Rachel? I fear she works much too hard. And without a husband, she has no one to rely on. It is such a sad story."

Rachel was the last person Carly wanted to talk about, but then again, she had to come up with some reason for her persistent calls. She couldn't quite find the words to tell Antonio that she wanted him, and not just that she wanted him, but she wanted his life. "Actually, Rachel was one of the reasons I was calling you." She hesitated, searching her brain for a semi-plausible explanation. "I'm concerned about her reluctance to plant grapes. The apple market is struggling right now. I thought perhaps you could give her some advice." Rachel would probably kill her if he did, but Carly would worry about that later.

"Ah, it is a dilemma," he replied. "But I wouldn't presume to interfere in your sister's business decisions."

"Well, it's not just that," she said quickly. "I have another question for you."

"Of course. I am at your disposal."

He was so gallant. And the way he talked, so proper, yet masculine and powerful. When she was with him, she felt taken care of, protected, spoiled. Maybe he wasn't madly in love with her, but he could be. She just needed more time to persuade him to look at her like a woman and not like a kid sister.

"Excuse me, sir," the housekeeper said as she reentered the room. "You have a telephone call in your study. It's your father. He said it was urgent."

"I'm sorry," Antonio told Carly. "I'll have to take that. Papa can be very impatient."

"That's fine."

After he left, Carly got to her feet and wandered around the formal dining room. The house, originally built by the Rogelio family in the early 1900's had been refurbished since Antonio's arrival. The room had lofty ceilings and arched windows. It was exquisitely decorated with a long mahogany table in the center, an antique sideboard against one wall and a slew of paintings that were probably worth a lot of money.

For a moment she felt a twinge of uneasiness, but she pushed it away. So what if the room was a little dark, the furniture a little heavy, the smell of money a little too strong? She could get used to this life.

The door opened behind her, and she turned with a smile. Her smile faded when she saw Travis enter the room instead of Antonio. He was dressed in his usual blue jeans and plaid shirt, his hair windblown, his cheeks ruddy from too much time in the sun. He was nothing like the urbane man she'd had dinner with.

Travis let out a low whistle when he saw her.

"Well, well, well," he said. "What do we have here?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Just picking up a check from Antonio. Where is he?"

"He had to take a phone call. He'll be right back."

"Then I'll wait."

She frowned as he settled down in her chair and had the nerve to actually pick up her fork and take a bite of her lemon tart. "What are you doing?"

"I thought you were done."

"Are you following me?"

He snorted a laugh. "As if I had time. I'm working three jobs as it is. Some of us actually work for money instead of trying to marry into it."

"Then why aren't you actually working? Why are you always turning up where I am?"

"Lucky coincidence. You look good in that dress.
Sexy as hell.
Antonio must have drooled all over the tablecloth."

She blushed, telling herself she didn't care what he thought.

"So how's the seduction going?" Travis continued.

"Fine."

"He doesn't have a clue. Come on, Carly, tell the truth. He has no idea that you're after him."

"Yes, he does. And I'm not the one doing the seducing, Antonio is. He's very suave."

"Suave, huh? There's a five-dollar word."

"Why don't you come back tomorrow, Travis? The banks aren't open tonight anyway."

"Tomorrow Antonio is leaving for New York."

Her jaw dropped. "He is not."

Travis grinned. "Yes, he is. Guess that doesn't sit too well with your plans, does it?"

"You're lying. You're trying to ruin my night."

He shrugged. "Whatever. This lemon thing is pretty good. Whatever happened to the apple pie?"

"My family ate it," she snapped, her mind still wrestling with this bombshell. Antonio couldn't be leaving tomorrow. She needed more time. Well, if she didn't have it, she didn't have it, she thought with renewed determination. She'd give him a night to remember, a night to think about changing his plans.

"Your family ate the pie?" Travis asked with amusement. "Boy, you're having a bad week."

"And you're making it worse."

"Does Antonio know about your portrait of him?"

"No, and you're not going to tell him. You're not going to tell anyone."

"I might forget. I might let it slip out. It wouldn't be on purpose, of course."

She sighed. "You're never going to let this go, are you?"

"Are you kidding? Blackmail, baby."

"I don't have any money."

"I don't want money."

She felt herself blush again. Damn. It was a very bad habit, and one she would definitely have to lose once she married Antonio. Sophisticated women did not blush.

"I'm never going to give you what you want," she said pointedly. "That can't be bought."

"Seriously? Aren't you trying to sell it to Antonio?"

"No. You just don't understand," she said in frustration, hating that he made her feel cheap and easy. It wasn't like that -- at least she didn't think it was.

"Then explain it to me. Explain to me what Antonio has to offer you besides money."

"A different life, that's what. I want to travel, to be someone, to fit in somewhere."

"You fit in here."

"No, I don't. I don't think I ever have. I've just been pretending. But deep down I'm just like ..." She stopped herself from saying the word.

Travis's gaze turned more serious. "Just like who?"

She hesitated,
then
said, "My mother, if you must know. I think I'm like her. She had to follow her passion, and I have to follow mine."

He stared at her for a long moment. "You never knew your mother. How do you know you're like her?"

"I just do."

"Because you like to paint?"

"That, and other things."

"It sounds like you want to be like her. But that doesn't make sense. She left you when you were a baby. You should be mad as hell at her."

"I am -- sometimes. But that's just it, Travis. Everyone is mad as hell at my mother. No one will talk about her. Rachel knew her, but she won't share a memory. My father wouldn't even say her name. My grandparents pretend that she's dead. I'm the only one who wonders about her."

"I still don't get what this has to do with Antonio. Why don't you simply go look for your mother?"

"I couldn't do that. It would be a betrayal," she said flatly. "Everyone would hate me."

"I don't think they would."

"Well, I do, and I know them better than you do."

"So what? Are you hoping you'll marry Antonio and somehow wind up in the same social circle as your mother? You don't even know if she's still alive, do you?"

Carly shook her head. "No, I don't."

"You need a better plan."

"My plan is not to find my mother. My plan is to marry Antonio and live a cosmopolitan life. Why shouldn't I want that? What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing is wrong with wanting that kind of life. But marrying a man you don't love isn't the way to get it."

"He will love me. I still have the apples."

"Oh, right, the magic apples. You don't really believe that story, do you?"

"The magic has worked before. Why shouldn't it work for me?"

"Well, good luck getting Antonio to eat one. You'd have a better chance trying to push some caviar down his throat." Travis shoved back his chair. "Tell Antonio to leave my check with his housekeeper, would you? I don't think I have the stomach to watch you sell yourself tonight."

"That's mean. You make what I'm doing sound cheap and degrading."

"It is cheap. You're worth more, Carly."

"No, I'm not."
Because if she'd been worth more all those years ago, her mother never would have left.

"Sure you are."

"I'm a flake. I'm a terrible student. I'm even worse at business. The only thing I can do, I can't do."

Confusion filled his eyes. "What are you talking about?" He snapped his fingers. "The painting? Is that what this is about?"

"No," she immediately said.

"It is. My God, Carly, if you want to paint, paint. Why go after Antonio? Or is this still about his money? He can set you up, get your career going, is that it? Is that what he promises you?"