feature.”
“Only if you don’t want to hear the truth.” Katherine smiled.
Annie’s mind raced. Had Vicki been telling the truth about how Sinclair looked at her? Maybe he really was still attracted to her. Or perhaps even had deeper feelings.
Heat rushed inside her and she walked to the far end of the attic to bury herself in shadows. If these women had any idea what was going through her mind—and who knew what powers of perception Vicki possessed beyond those she boasted—they’d be scandalized. As it was, they talked about Sinclair’s love life right in front of her as if she didn’t exist. It obviously didn’t cross Katherine’s mind that her beloved son might have had an affair, no matter how brief, with the woman who served the brie en croute and refilled her wineglass.
She let out a quiet sigh.
“He didn’t seem to like Lally much, did he?”
“Not at all. I think that shows excellent taste on his part.”
“She’s from a very good family,” said Katherine with conviction.
“Is that important?”
“I think so. Don’t you?”
“Not in the least. I’ve always secretly dreamed of marrying one of the dastardly Drummonds, despite the family’s dubious reputation.”
“Oh, Vicki. You and Sinclair would make a striking couple.”
“So I was telling Annie.” Vicki shot a glance at her, where she hid in the shadows. “She completely agreed.”
Katherine clapped her hands together and laughed. “Well, then, maybe things are moving in the right direction.”
Vicki glanced at Annie again, as if seeking her gaze, but Annie kept herself busy rummaging through a tall chest of drawers. Was Vicki deliberately trying to torment her? Maybe she took pleasure in the fact that she could have Sinclair if she wanted to, and Annie couldn’t.
Whoever said life was supposed to be fair? Her grandmother’s ominous words rang in her ears. If she wanted to keep her sanity, she needed to forget that wild afternoon of lovemaking ever happened.
If only it were that easy.
Her heart pounded with trepidation as she approached Sinclair. He’d been gone for much of the past week, out sailing, fishing or playing tennis. She might suspect he was trying to avoid someone, if she didn’t already know that was true.
But she couldn’t hold her tongue any longer.
I’m crazy about you.
No, she wasn’t going to say that, though the thought almost drove a manic laugh to her lips. She drew in a deep breath as she opened the door to the sitting room. “Sinclair?”
He was reading alone, in front of the big, carved fireplace. No fire burned, since it was downright hot and the house, being ancient, had no air-conditioning. He looked up from his newspaper. “Hello, Annie.”
Her insides melted. Why did he always greet her by name? Did he know that it half killed her to hear her name—boring as it was—fall from his mouth in that deep, warm tone? It would be so much better if he just uttered a curt “What?”
“Um.” She pushed a lock of hair behind her ears. Then glanced behind her. She didn’t want anyone to overhear what she was about to say. “It’s about Vicki. Do you mind if I close the door?”
He frowned slightly, and curiosity appeared in his eyes. “This sounds mysterious.” He glanced at the door. She took that as an invitation and quickly shut it.
“She’s been up in the attic with your mom and me, looking through all the old stuff.” She paused, wondering how to say this next part.
“I know. That’s why she’s here, ostensibly.” He leaned toward her slightly, and she felt the increased closeness almost like a hug. Which was ridiculous, since she was still several feet away.
“It probably isn’t my place to say anything, but I couldn’t keep quiet because I know the house and everything in it is important to you.”
He regarded her with no expression. Probably thought she was nuts. Maybe it would be better if she didn’t say anything. In some ways it was none of her business. On the other hand she was the housekeeper, which, taken literally, could mean she was responsible for keeping the house from being looted. “Vicki’s been taking detailed notes on a lot of the items in the attic, and I’ve seen her researching them on her laptop.”
“She’s an antique dealer.”
“I know. I’ve also seen her looking at auctions on eBay. I think she might be planning to sell some of the items.”
“Perhaps my mom has asked her to. There’s way too much junk up there.”
She shook her head. “I heard her bring the idea up, and your mom said we should put everything back where we found it, to save it for your children.” She didn’t mention her own part in helping Katherine to that decision.
“Typical.” He shook his head. “Why does everyone have to have children? Would it be such a tragedy if this branch of the Drummonds died out with me? Put it all on eBay. That’s what I say.” A wry smile played about his lips. “But I do appreciate you worrying about the fate of our old junk. It’s very thoughtful.”
Was he making fun of her? He certainly didn’t seem to care whether Vicki took everything home in her suitcase. Maybe he really didn’t want children and everything in the house would end up at an auctioneer one day. “You should have children.”
She gasped when she heard her own words on the air. Sinclair sat up slightly in his chair, startled. “I can see you feel strongly about it. May I ask why?” Humor glittered in the depths of his eyes.
She wished she could melt into the Persian carpet. Because you’d be a great father. Strict, but kind. Because children would bring out the child buried inside you. “I don’t know. It would be a waste, that’s all. And your mom would be very disappointed.”
“She’ll survive. I don’t live my life to please other people.”
“Don’t you want children?” Why did she keep digging herself further into this hole? Sheer burning curiosity drove her to ask.
“I used to, once.” He looked up at the window. Then his brow furrowed. “But I don’t intend to be a single father and apparently there isn’t a woman alive who can put up with me.”
“That’s not true.” Her heart squeezed. Did he really feel so totally unlovable? “You just haven’t met the right person yet.” The light played in his dark hair and across his bold cheekbones. If only she could tell him that he had met the right person and she was standing here in front of him.
But he’d told her to forget their magical afternoon ever happened. He wasn’t interested in her. He’d lost control for a short while, and now that his sanity was back he wanted nothing from her. Well, other than freshly laundered sheets and homemade dinners.
His brow had furrowed slightly and an odd expression played across his sensual mouth. “Maybe you’re right.” He looked away sharply. “I don’t know.”
Tension thickened in the air. Her fault. She’d come in here and started this far-too-personal conversation after accusing one of his old friends of fraud. She’d be lucky if they didn’t fire her. “I’d better go make dinner.”
“Yes, you’d better.” That glint of amusement twinkled in his eyes again. “Before you make any more rash and unsettling statements.”
Something hovered between them. Unspoken words. Feelings