not making me feel better.”
“We’ll be fine.” He lifted his arm and placed it around her shoulder. Her soft floral scent filled his nostrils. Soon they’d be alone together in the mountains. The fresh air would lift the cares off both of their shoulders. He couldn’t wait to hear her infectious laugh echo off the wooded hillsides, or see the morning sun sparkle in her lovely eyes. And then there would be the nights … He’d instructed the caretaker to put the best fresh linen on the beds—he planned to offer her one for herself, then tempt her out of it. The prospect of Brooke’s lush body writhing under those sheets made his pulse quicken.
Yes, she was his assistant. Doubts did force their way to the forefront of his consciousness from time to time. Mixing business and pleasure was always risky, and in a family business it could be downright explosive. His father had warned all of them to keep their personal affairs out of the office and RJ had never had an affair with an employee before, despite considerable temptation over the years. Funnily enough he’d never seen Brooke in that way until their whiskey-flavored kiss in his office. She’d been his right-hand woman, his trusted friend, his rock—but their kiss had opened up a new world of possibilities.
Now he knew his assistant was a sensual woman, with passion flickering behind the jade of her eyes and excited breaths quickening in her lovely chest when he looked at her, the temptation was irresistible. He’d never have dreamed anything could take his mind off the hailstorm of disaster raining down on the Kincaid family over the last few months, but when he was with Brooke, all his burdens seemed lighter. It was such a relief to be with someone whom he could totally trust.
He heard Brooke’s breath catch as the plane lifted off the runway, but she soon relaxed as they rose high over the Charleston suburbs, heading toward the sunset and the distant shadow of the mountains. If only they could fly away from all his troubles and worries. Those were hitchhiking along, but with Brooke by his side they’d stay in check.
“How’s your mom doing?” Brooke’s soft question revealed her natural empathy.
“She’s hanging in there. She’s a brave woman and she doesn’t want us to worry. I visited her this afternoon and took her some books she wanted. I told her we’re doing everything we can to get her out. The police have been pretty closemouthed so I hired a private investigator to work full-time on the case, and he’s going to work with Nikki Thomas, our own corporate investigator. The lawyers are still trying to negotiate bail. They keep promising she’ll be released but it gets shot down at the last moment. Apparently someone saw her in the office that night. Hey, are you okay?”
Brooke’s face had turned so pale, even her lips lost color. “Sure, just a little queasy. I’ll be okay.”
He squeezed her hand. It was easy to dismiss your own problems, but you couldn’t always help the ones you cared about. Lately that made him feel powerless, an unfamiliar experience he hated. At least he could show Brooke a glorious and relaxing weekend in the country. She deserved the best of everything and he intended to give it to her.
Brooke gripped his hand tightly during their descent into the airport at Gatlinburg, then exhaled with relief as the plane taxied to a halt.
“See? You survived.”
“Only just. And my nails have probably left permanent scars on your hand.”
“I’ll wear them with pride.”
RJ was pleased to see the caretaker had dropped the familiar black Suburban off at the airport then discreetly disappeared. The first sign that his plans were going smoothly. He’d told the caretaker he didn’t need any staff on hand, as he suspected Brooke might be spooked by the presence of other people. Much better that they enjoy peace and privacy.
A now-familiar pang of grief hit him as he climbed behind the wheel. His dad usually drove, maintaining the familiar patterns of father-and-son even though RJ had been driving for nearly twenty years. “Dad loved it up here. He always said the whole world fell away if you got high enough up into the mountains.”
“It’s beautiful. The light is different here.” That light illuminated Brooke’s hair and her delicate profile as she looked out the window. For a split second he longed to press his lips to hers and lose himself in a kiss. Instead he started the engine.
“Dad wrote me a letter when he made his will.” He frowned. He’d never spoken to anyone else about it. “Said he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d live and he wanted to make sure the lodge would be mine.”
“Oh.” Brooke turned sharply, shock written on her face. “Sounds like he almost knew he was going to die.”
“He never said a word to anyone.” He shook his head. “His lawyers told me he redrew his will every few years, so they didn’t think much of it. He included letters each time. But when he died there was one for everyone in the family … except my mom.”
“Did he leave any hints of who he suspected?”
“That is odd. Nothing I could figure out. He does mention his other family that none of us knew about. Well, except Mom.”
“Your mom knew about his other woman and her children?”
RJ swallowed. “Apparently so. She didn’t say anything to us. She learned about them while he was writing his will. She found a copy in his desk.” It was good to get that awkward truth off his chest. He knew he could trust Brooke not to tell anyone. “She didn’t want any of us to know.”
“Is that why police think she has motive?”
“I suppose they think she wanted revenge.” He heard Brooke’s intake of breath. Did she think it was possible that his mom could wield a gun against her husband of nearly four decades? “You do know she’s innocent.”
“Yes, of course.” The color had fled her cheeks again. “It’s just a shame she had to find out that way.”
Brooke seemed distracted, staring hard out the window, not even noticing the bait and tackle shop and the quaint country inn he’d intended to show her.
“I brought Dad’s letter with me because he mentions something in the lodge.” He paused while a big truck crossed at the intersection ahead. “Something else he wanted me to have.”
“An object?”
“I don’t know. It’s rather mysterious. He said to look in the third drawer down, but he didn’t say what piece of furniture.”
“Hmm. I guess you’ll just have to open every third drawer down in the house, and hope for the best.”
He didn’t mention the other things his dad had said in the letter. For now those were between Reginald Kincaid, Sr., and his namesake, and maybe it was better that no one else knew about them.
Brooke was lost for words when they pulled up at the lodge. Then again, what had she expected, a shack with an outside toilet? This was a Kincaid residence. The vast log home rose up out of the surrounding woodlands, high gables braced with chiseled beams and walls of windows reflecting the sunset. RJ strode up the steps and unlocked the impressive double doors, then ushered her inside.
Golden sunlight illuminated the foyer from all directions. RJ put down their bags then walked through a door in the far wall. “Dad named it Great Oak Lodge. Come see why we built the house here.”
Brooke followed him into another grand room, decorated in an updated, minimalist interpretation of hunting-lodge chic: pale sofas with muted plaid accents, a painting of a stag and an impressive stone fireplace. The last rays of sunlight blazing in through a wall of windows largely obscured the view, until RJ opened a pair of patio doors and she saw an endless vista of tree-cloaked hills.
She walked out and stood beside him. There were no signs of civilization at all, just peaks and valleys filled with more trees. “It feels like we’re on top of the world.”
“Maybe we are.” He stepped behind her and slid his arms around her waist. Her belly shimmered with arousal. They