Secret Vows (Hideaway (Kimani)) (8 page)

“Nineteen fifty-six.”

The guard pushed a button on a console, activating an eight-foot electronic gate. “Have you thought about selling it?”

“No,” Jason and Greer chorused, and then shared a smile. The gate opened and he drove through. “You see I’m not the only one who wants to buy Johnny B. Goode II.”

Greer stared out the side window at the sprawling Colonial with meticulously landscaped lawns and gardens. It was minutes before she saw another house, this one with a five-car garage. The Georgian-style mansion boasted eight chimneys. Bear Ridge Estates overlooked the Hood River Valley and she tried imagining waking up year-round to the lush views of the beautiful fertile valley with fruit trees and the magnificence of Mount Hood.

She didn’t know what to expect Jason’s home to look like when seeing the others they’d passed, but it wasn’t the three- and four-story ostentatious residences which were more a showplace than a home for family living. It sat in a sunny knoll amid the fragrant pine forest. Its design was reminiscent of a hunting lodge. The attached three-car garage was constructed in the same design as the main house.

“Don’t move,” Jason said when she made the motion to open her door. “I’ll help you down.”

Well all right,
she thought, waiting as he got out and came around the truck. Finally she’d met a man who’d help a woman in and out of a vehicle without her asking. It was a pet peeve of hers, and she and her ex had argued constantly about it when dating, yet she’d foolishly married him because the sex was good.

Jason extended his arms and she slid off the seat, her hands on his shoulders as he lowered her effortlessly to the ground. She hadn’t missed the flexing of his solid muscles under her fingertips when she held on to him. His clothes had artfully concealed a well-conditioned physique. She reached for her tote. Resting a hand at the small of her back, he escorted her to a side entrance. Lifting the door handle, Jason punched in a code.

Greer smiled up at him when he pushed open the door. “It’s nice not having to use a key.” She followed him into a mud/laundry room with a slate floor. There were built-in shelves filled with red, white and blue canvas bins.

“I have an unfortunate habit of misplacing my keys.” He sat down on a bench and removed his shoes. “I have socks that will fit you if you want to take off your boots.”

“Thank you.”

She sat on the bench, unzipped the four-inch booties, wiggling her toes. The polish on her left big toe had chipped. She’d set aside Mondays to drive into town for a day of beauty that included hair and a mani-pedi. Jason pulled out a bin labeled Socks and handed her a pair of white golf socks.

“Have you had breakfast?”

Her head popped up. “No.”

Jason held out his hand, pulling her to her feet. “Neither have I. We’ll talk while I cook.”

“You cook?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Of course I can cook. Who do you think feeds me?”

Greer made a face. “There’s no need to get so snippy, Jason. You could have a girlfriend who comes to cook for you.”

He angled his head. “Is that your way of being subtle?”

“Being subtle about what?”

“To find out whether I’m involved with a woman.”

Throwing back her head, Greer laughed until tears filled her eyes. “Sure...surely you jest,” she sputtered, touching the corners of her eyes with a forefinger. “I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I’m not ready to become involved with a man.”

“Is it because of your divorce?”

A beat passed, while she stared at Jason. His question had caught her completely by surprise. “Who told you I was divorced?”

Jason wanted to lie and say he’d overheard someone talking about her, but he’d never perfected lying. “It was Chase.”

Her heart pounded painfully against her ribs. “You and Chase were discussing me?”

“He said Bobby told him about your divorce because he’d asked about you.”

“Why would he ask about me?” Greer wasn’t paranoid, plus she knew her uncle would never tell anyone she was a special agent for the ATF. However, there was a remote possibility Chase could’ve gained access to her classified file while she wasn’t able to come up with anything verifying his existence.

Jason tugged on her ponytail. “Come on, Greer. You can’t be that naive. You have to know what you look like. Only a man who isn’t normal wouldn’t give you a first, second
and
a third look.”

Greer wished she’d had this information before today. She would’ve approached Chase directly instead of trying to make nice with his friend. It was too late for her to change her plan of action in midstream without arousing suspicion.

“I suppose I should be flattered, but I’ve never been drawn to the brooding type.”

“Chase is rather laid-back once you get to know him,” Jason said in defense of his friend.

He draped an arm over her shoulders. “What do you feel like eating?”

Tilting her chin, she smiled up at him. “It’s been a while since I’ve had French toast.”

Lowering his head, Jason kissed her hair. “You’re in luck because I went to the supermarket last night, and I have all the ingredients to make your French toast.”

“I’m going to like hanging out with you. You cook
and
shop.”

“I can also do laundry,” he boasted proudly.

“Now I know you’re a keeper.”

Jason laughed. “You may change your mind once you discover I don’t know how to clean.”

“That’s why people hire housekeepers.”

The smile that brightened Jason’s expression made him look boyish. “A cleaning company comes twice a week. They’re under contract to service all the residences in this community.”

Greer filed away this piece of information. That meant the company probably cleaned Chase’s house. Wrapping her arm around Jason’s waist, she leaned in closer. “Would you like some help in the kitchen?”

“No. Today you’re my guest.”

“What about the next time, Jason?”

“Will there be a next time?” he asked, answering her question with one of his own.

“After we talk, if we can come to an agreement, then there will definitely be a next time.”

Chapter 7

G
reer’s eyes were drawn to a magnificent black concert piano as she followed Jason into what was an open gallery of rooms on the first floor level. The kitchen, dining and living rooms flowed seamlessly into the great room. Natural wood, stone, hardwood floors and leather furniture created a warm and personal family space.

The media center—with a large wall-mounted flat screen and audio components which were separate from the primary living space—and the massive rock-faced fireplace provided a cool contrast to the warmth of the wood’s crooks and the support beams’ arches.

“How many bedrooms do you have?”

Standing behind Greer, Jason rested his hands on her shoulders. “Five and a half.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “How can you have half a bedroom?”

“I’ll show you. Would you like a quick tour of the house?”

She wondered how many other women he’d invited to take a tour of his house, then chided herself for entertaining the thought. Again she was forced to remind herself why she’d agreed to come to Bear Ridge Estates. It wasn’t because she had romantic notions or wanted a record deal. It was to gain access to the guarded, gated community and Chase Bromleigh.

“Sure.”

Jason reached for her hand. “We’ll start upstairs, then I’ll take you downstairs to the studio.”

Greer climbed the carpeted winding staircase, stepping off onto a corridor wide enough for two or three to walk abreast. Lamps with crystal bases sat on a mahogany drop leaf halfway down the hall. Jason touched a wall switch and recessed lighting brightened the space, and the floor shimmered with a reddish patina. She sucked in her breath.

“The floor.”

Jason gave her a sidelong look. “What about it?”

“It’s beautiful.”

“I didn’t want the same type of wood throughout the house, so my aunt suggested Brazilian cherrywood.”

“Was she the architect?”

He gave Greer’s fingers a gentle squeeze. “No. She’s an interior decorator who recommended the architect.”

“She has exquisite taste.”

Jason grasped Greer’s free hand and pressed his back to the wall covered with a wheat-colored fabric. His eyes lingered on her upturned face, marveling at the perfect texture of her skin. He wanted to tell her she was flawless, that everything about her appeared young, fresh and natural. The natural look was something he’d found missing in so many high-maintenance women he had come into contact with. Many in their attempt to
enhance
their looks had standing appointments with plastic surgeons. Even women under thirty were injecting their faces with fillers. He’d seen Greer three times and each time she looked different. He found himself as transfixed with her voice as much as he’d been with the lights over the stage illuminating her hair and face. Chase may not have been her type, but Jason realized Greer was definitely his.

“Before I show you the bedrooms, I want you to know that it took longer for me to approve the plans for this house than it did to build it.”

Greer freed her hands, resting them on Jason’s chest over his heart. “Are you always so indecisive?”

His eyes under lowered lids lingered on her mouth. “No. It was my first time buying property, so I didn’t want to invest in a house, then end up selling it a few years down the road.”

Her eyebrows lifted a fraction. “You don’t own property in Florida?”

“I don’t know how to say this.”

“Say what, Jason?”

He glanced over her head. “I still live at home.”

“And...”

“And what?” he retorted. “Don’t you think it’s weird that a thirty-three-year-old solvent man still lives at home with his parents?”

“No more weird that a thirty-two-year-old college grad waiting tables and living in her uncle’s house.”

Jason stared, complete surprise freezing his features. “You’re thirty-two?”

“Yes. How old did you think I am?”

“Twenty-five. Maybe twenty-six.”

Going on tiptoe, Greer kissed his stubble. “Thanks for the compliment.”

He went still. “You think I said that just to flatter you?”

“I don’t know, Jason. I’ve discovered men say a lot of things they really don’t mean to flatter a woman.”

The seconds ticked as he glared at her. “I’m not a lot of men, Greer. I don’t know anything about your marriage or why you’re divorced, but I’d like to remind you that I am not your ex. And there is one thing I want you to know about me if we’re going to have a business relationship, and that is, I’ll never lie to you. The recording industry—like any other competitive business—is fraught with pitfalls wherein behemoths lie in wait to take advantage of those responsible for putting them in their mansions, Bentleys, underwriting the cost for their diamonds, yachts and private jets. And they do this by lying, cheating and stealing from the innocent and unsuspecting.”

Greer struggled not to lose her temper. “Why are you bringing up my divorce?”

“Because it seems as if you lump all men in the same category as your ex.”

“Are you married or were you ever married?” she countered.

“No. And even if I was, I don’t think I’d paint all women with the same broad brush. I’ve had some real crazy girlfriends and a few who were wonderful, but I didn’t distrust or mistreat the nice ones because of the crazies.”

She took a deep breath to calm her quaking innards. “Why are we arguing, Jason? You’re supposed to be giving me a tour of your house.”

“We weren’t arguing,” Jason said in a quiet voice. “We were having a minor difference of opinion.” Wrapping both arms around her shoulders, he pulled her close and kissed her hair. “As I was saying—I still live at home, not because I can’t afford to live elsewhere, but because I have my own apartment there and easy access to my father’s recording studio.”

“That’s a whole lot better than sleeping on your mama’s couch or on a blow-up mattress on the basement floor.”

Jason smiled, dimples winking. “Damn-m-m,” he drawled.

Ditto, she thought. That’s exactly what her ex was doing. He’d had so much potential but squandered it when he was unable to separate fantasy from reality. “Where’s your bedroom?”

“It’s the first one on the left.” He opened the first door on the right. “We’ll start with the guest rooms.”

Greer entered, feeling as if she’d walked into a suite at a four-star hotel. A king-size bed with a white leather headboard was the room’s focal point. Her gaze shifted to a matching footstool and a corner chaise. The chocolate-brown-and-white bed dressing, sheer wall-to-wall cream-colored silk drapes and modern furniture in gleaming mahogany provided an inviting space to sleep for hours. The bed faced a wall with a large flat screen and built-in electric fireplace. One other wall held walk-in closets. Further examination of the bedroom revealed an Asian-inspired bathroom-spa with twin vanities, a free-standing tub equipped with a Jacuzzi, shower, glass-enclosed sauna and dressing area.

The other three guest rooms were similar to the first with the exception of the color schemes. One had a king-size bed. Another held a queen-size bed and the last one was furnished with two full beds. This one was obviously decorated for children. There was no television on the wall opposite the beds. All of the furniture was white as was the comforters. Throw pillows in blues, pinks, yellow and mint green provided a riot of color in the otherwise pristine space. It contained an alcove with a cushioned window seat and an entertainment unit with a television, a Wii gaming system, book shelves, 3-D glasses and DVDs.

Greer ran her fingertips over the spines of nursery rhymes and chapter books. “I really like this room.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Jason angled his head. “Once I marry and start a family, it will become a nursery and later a bedroom for a teenager. Speaking of teenagers, every year the entire clan gets together for a family reunion in West Palm Beach. Everyone comes in for Christmas Eve and stays the entire week. New Year’s Eve is traditionally for weddings.”

“There is a wedding every New Year’s Eve?” she asked, pleasantly surprised by this revelation.

“Not every year, but this year we’ll definitely have two. My twin sister will renew her vows, and I just got an email from a cousin that he’s getting married in Virginia at the end of October, but will renew his vows for the entire family on New Year’s Eve. Thanksgiving is different because my father, his brothers and sisters, their wives and husbands celebrate the holiday together, while my generation celebrates separately. Initially our parents thought we were rebelling, but after a while, they were okay with it as long as we joined everyone for the week between Christmas and New Year.”

“Where are you spending Thanksgiving this year?”

“We don’t know yet. It was supposed to be in Mississippi, but my cousin canceled it because he had an accident earlier this summer. My cousin Regina wants us to come to Brazil, but the family in New Mexico doesn’t want to travel that far just for a four-day weekend. They have school-age kids, and if they decide to stay longer, then that would mean the kids missing classes.”

“Have you ever hosted it here?”

Jason shook his head.

“Why not?” Greer asked. “It’s not as if you don’t have enough room.”

“I usually come out here in June and leave around Halloween. However, this year is different because I probably won’t leave until just before Christmas.”

“Then you should host Thanksgiving.”

Greer had given him an idea. He’d planned to stay in Oregon until the end of the year, and celebrating Thanksgiving and having children running in and out of the rooms at Serenity West was something he’d welcome. Jason made a mental note to contact his first cousins to let them know he was willing to open his home for this year’s Thanksgiving gathering.

“It’s something I’ll definitely consider.”

Greer affected a sexy moue. “You and I have something in common.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m also a twin.”

“Sister or brother?”

“Brother. He always says he’s the prettier twin.”

“I doubt that, but I tell Ana the same thing,” Jason teased.

She made a sucking sound with her tongue and teeth. “That has to be a male twin thing. Do you and your sister look alike?”

Jason nodded. “More or less. We have our dad’s black hair and dimples, but our mother’s eyes. I’m also a lot taller than she is.” He didn’t want to tell Greer that her hair and eye color were similar to his mother’s.

“Cooper and I definitely look alike. But he’s got a good six inches on me.” Greer glanced around the proposed nursery-to-teen bedroom. “That’s four bedrooms down and one to go.”

He steered her across the bedroom to a narrow hallway. “This is a shortcut into my bedroom. I’m surprised your parents didn’t give you names like Daniel and Danielle.”

“When told she was having twins, my mom decided to treat us like brother and sister instead of twins. She never referred to us as
the twins.
It was her son and daughter, or Cooper and Greer. Cooper is my mother’s maiden name. My dad is Gregory so I became Greer.”

“People probably believe you were named after Greer Garson and Gary Cooper.”

“Folks who are movie buffs have asked me that.”

Greer was intrigued by Jason. If he’d been born in the ’40s or ’50s, there is no doubt he would exhibit the sensibilities and norms from those decades. But for someone born in the 1980s, she found him to be an enigma. From what he’d shown her, he did not appear to be self-centered, boastful or arrogant like some of the kids from well-to-do families she’d attended school with, dated and eventually married. He was one of the music industry’s more successful young writers/producers, preferring to stay out of the limelight and therefore out of the tabloids.

She liked watching major awards shows not just to find out the winners, but who were the movers and shakers. Although Serenity Records was a small independent record label, their artists’ successes were anything but small. The songs from their latest crossover singing sensation were played on every major radio station. Even she’d downloaded Justin Glover’s album to her iPod.

Jason opened the door, and she preceded him into the master bedroom suite. It was twice the size of the one they’d just left. The khaki, cinnamon and paprika-red tones in the expansive bedroom paired with furnishings that recreated British campaign furniture—made popular in eighteenth-century India, Africa, West Indies or even the South Sea—exuded sophisticated elegance. It was the same with the dressing stand and bureau and carried over into the carvings in the posts of the large bed. Two neatly folded throws in khaki and maroon lay on the bench covered in natural suede at the foot of the bed. She glanced up at the trio of skylights, then to the wall-to-wall walk-in closets and the stone fireplace.

Greer made her way across the room to windows overlooking a garden with a waterfall and wildflowers growing in abandon. A short distance away was an inground pool, tennis and basketball courts, gazebo and hot tub. Jason had spared no expense to construct and decorate a home designed for ultimate family living, recreation and relaxation.

The adjoining bathroom bordered on decadence with walls of frosted glass that let light in while keeping prying eyes out, a white stone floor, a black marble sunken tub, a free-standing shower and built-in sauna. She left the bathroom, walked into an antechamber and found Jason lounging on an off-white English-style sofa lined with throw pillows in shades from beige to maroon. A glass-topped caned coffee table evoked a Caribbean feel. A stack of coffee table books occupied the corner of the table set on an area rug. The doors to a mahogany armoire were open to reveal a television and audio components, while bundles of dried herbs lay on the fireplace grate behind a decorative screen.

She sat down next to him, picking up a cream-and-red silk striped pillow. “Do you sleep in your bedroom?”

“I did the first day I arrived, but not since. Why?”

“It looks so sterile. Everything is in its place.”

“I only come up here to shower and change my clothes.”

“Where do you sleep?”

“In the downstairs studio.”