Her Secret Affair Read online

  She lifted her free hand to cup his cheek. She didn’t know what to say. He was perhaps the finest man she’d ever known, and that was saying something, all things considered, and she knew that she loved him. How could she not? But being his wife came with being a mother to his son, even with Janey in the picture, and she just didn’t know if that would be fair to any of them. No matter how desperately she wanted it, she wasn’t sure that she could be what Seth needed or even what Brodie needed. And yet, she couldn’t seem to walk away from him, either, especially not after what he had just told her.

  “You said you thought you knew what was going on with Janey now. Is she pretending, do you think, trying to hold on to you via some quirky spin on amnesia?”

  He nodded. “Yes, I think so. I don’t have any proof, of course, and until I get it, I can’t really afford to do anything about the situation.”

  “You know,” she said, thinking back, “one day I was upstairs, and I was so certain that I heard someone talking, someone having a conversation, in Janey’s room, that I went in. Brown was there, and she said…I can’t remember what she said now, but I felt terribly foolish at the time. Now, I have to wonder.”

  “So do I,” Brodie said, getting to his feet. “In fact, I did the very same thing. Brown said it was the radio, but I wondered. I really did.” He began to pace back and forth between the hearth and the couch. “Now that I think about it, that was the night I as much as told Janey that I was going to ask you to marry me. I thought for a moment that I’d gotten some response, then I decided I was mistaken.”

  Marry him. For a moment, Chey couldn’t seem to catch her breath, but then she shook free of it and forced her mind to work. “Her awakening was pretty convenient, especially if Brown was there on the gallery, watching us kiss.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I didn’t think much about it at the time,” she told him, “but I distinctly recall glimpsing Brown watching from the upstairs gallery on the back of the house.”

  “Makes perfect sense,” he said, sitting down again. “Janey had to be pretending to be in a coma, at least for a time, and then ‘woke up’ as soon as it became obvious I was getting serious about you.”

  “But why would she do that?” Chey asked. “Why pretend to be in a coma?”

  “Because she knew that as soon as she was on her feet again, I’d move her out of the house. The only question is, when did she really wake up?”

  “Brown must be very devoted to Janey to go along with something like this,” Chey surmised.

  “Absolutely. But it’s more than mere devotion to Janey. There’s some connection with Brown and Harp, though I don’t know what.”

  “So it’s a setup,” Chey concluded, “a really heartless one, if you ask me.”

  Brodie made a fist and smacked it into the opposite palm. “Damn Janey! I was so worried that I’d done her harm with the move, because before she had seemed half-aroused, almost irritated, as if she might be gradually coming out of it. Then afterward she seemed deeply unconscious again. The doctors decided I had it all wrong, though. So I accepted that she had sunk back into deep coma, when all along she must have been waking up!”

  “And the Shellys must have known it,” Chey pointed out. “That’s why they moved to New Orleans.”

  He shot her an astute look. “You’re absolutely right. He didn’t so much as call to check on her before he turned up here. Brown must have alerted him that Janey was awake. They probably couldn’t decide how best to handle things. Then when they thought I was about to step out of her reach for good by marrying you, they came up with this stupid amnesia thing.”

  “But how can they hope to pull it off?” Chey argued. “Surely they realize that your patience will come to an end.”

  “That’s why Harp has brought in this Dr. Champlain,” Brodie said. “He told me that he’d found a specialist he trusted to give us a prognosis on Janey. I’ll bet you dollars to doughnuts that Champlain’s going to give us all sorts of dire warnings about the consequences of disrupting her fiction.”

  “Do they really think you’ll agree to this pretense indefinitely?” Chey asked. “Even you have to have your limit.”

  “Yes, and they know exactly what it is,” Brodie said quietly. He slid his hands into his pants pockets. “Harp’s already shown his trump card. They’ll sue me for custody of Seth if I don’t do what they want.”

  That certainly rankled. Chey brought her hands to her hips. “But you have an agreement.”

  “Agreements are broken every day, sweetheart, and we have very little in writing. All she has to do is say that she’s changed her mind, and you must admit she makes a very sympathetic picture.”

  “But is she physically able to take care of a child?” Chey asked.

  “She will be,” Brodie assured her, “and she has Brown to thank for it. No nurse was ever more devoted. She exercised and massaged Janey’s muscles for hours on end every day. The doctors say that except for some weakness on her left side she’ll eventually regain all of her strength and muscle control.”

  “But still, you are obviously the better parent.”

  “You’re forgetting one thing,” he told her. “I’m not Seth’s natural father, and they won’t hesitate to make it known, believe me.”

  That, of course, could be a huge problem. “So what are you going to do?” Chey wanted to know.

  Brodie rubbed his chin, fingering his neat goatee consideringly. “Well, I’m going to fight, in court, if necessary, but I doubt it will come to that. They’ll probably eventually settle out of court.”

  “For a huge sum of money,” she surmised.

  “Oh, I expect they’ll want it all,” he said almost casually, “everything I have or ever will have.”

  “You can’t let that happen,” she told him heatedly.

  “I don’t intend to,” he said, snapping his fingers. “It just came to me, the perfect plan. They want me to pander to her fiction, so that’s just what I’m going to do, but I’m throwing a spoiler into the mix. That is, if you’ll help me.”

  “Me?” Chey cried in dismay. “Why me?”

  “Because you are the threat,” he pointed out reasonably. “As long as I have the hope of you, they have no hope of foisting this fiction on me. Don’t you see? We can’t let them believe they’ve driven you away. It was the threat of marriage to you that pushed them to show their hand to begin with. That same threat can still work. If you’ll help me.”

  “How?”

  “By pretending to love me and to want to marry me.” He came to her then, placing both of his hands on her shoulders. “We’ll have to pretend to be carrying on a thinly veiled affair right under their noses. Can you do that?”

  She knew what her answer should be, what the safe answer was, but standing there looking up into his troubled blue eyes, she couldn’t make herself take the safe path. “With very little effort,” she admitted.

  His hands tightened on her shoulders. “Will you?”

  She sighed inwardly and closed her eyes. “You know I will.”

  He pulled her into his arms, tucking her head beneath his chin. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

  “You would do the same for me,” she muttered against his chest.

  “Yes, but I love you,” he answered softly.

  She knew that he was hoping she might repeat those words to him, and they were poised on the tip of her tongue. All it would require was opening her mouth, but she couldn’t do it because saying it would move pretense into the realm of reality, and she wasn’t sure that she could do that even now.

  After a moment he chuckled humorlessly and muttered, “Well, at least you’re willing to help me keep my son. I’m grateful for that much.”

  She closed her hands in the fabric of his shirt at his sides and asked, “What do you want me to do?”

  He set her back from him, his grin wide and cagey. “Move in with me.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “
It’s really very simple,” Brodie said to the group assembled in the scantily furnished family room, “we need to finish the house as quickly as possible as I’m expecting an important foreign delegation shortly, so we have decided, Chey and I, that she should move in here to oversee the completion of the work.” He smiled at her, and she took up the explanation on cue.

  “Often the flaws in design and execution are only recognized by those actually in residence,” she began, hoping the lines did not sound as rehearsed as they were, “and while that’s to be expected, it usually means returning repeatedly to make small corrections and follow-up. By living here, I’ll be able to devote more attention to the details and, I hope, shorten completion time by weeks.”

  “Besides,” Brodie said, holding out a hand to her, “she’s such a pleasure to have around.”

  “My goodness,” Chey simpered, slipping her hand into his.

  He leaned close and kissed her lightly on the cheek. As if remembering himself, he released her again rather abruptly and cleared his throat.

  “All right, then. Kate, I’ve already carried her suitcases upstairs to the room across from mine. If you’ll just make the bed and leave some fresh towels, she’ll be comfortably settled, I think.”

  “I’ll take care of it right away,” Kate said, getting up from a stiff-backed chair that had been carried in by her husband and hurrying away.

  “Well, I think it’s a fine idea,” Viola said, tying Seth’s shoe for the second time in as many minutes. How he managed to untie it repeatedly without using his hands while sitting relatively still on a small settee next to his great-grandmother was a mystery to Chey. He just seemed to move a tiny bit and the laces came undone again no matter how diligently Viola tied them. Chey couldn’t help wondering if hook-and-loop fastenings wouldn’t be better, not that it was any of her concern, of course.

  Marcel leaned forward at the waist and spoke to Chey pointedly. “I must know what your favorite dishes are.”

  She laughed just because it was a so very Marcel thing to say and promised, “We’ll talk later.”

  “I just don’t see why it’s necessary for her to move in here,” Janey said petulantly. She wore a flowing pink gossamer dress and delicate sandals that seemed to interfere somewhat with her rather shambling gait whenever she left the wheelchair in which she now rested. Chey detected a faint droop in the muscles on one side of her face, but the petite strawberry blonde still managed to look radiant and ethereal. Brown, on the other hand, looked as if her stomach was cramping.

  “We’ve explained why,” Brodie said with excruciating patience. “To finish the house.”

  “But it’s all going to have to be redone, anyway,” Janey insisted, wrinkling her nose. “None of the colors are right, and everything’s so old-fashioned.”

  Brodie rolled his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose and said tautly, “We aren’t redoing anything. It’s perfect as it is.”

  “It’s exquisite,” Viola agreed, rising and shepherding Seth toward the door. “You’ve done a magnificent job, Chey dear. I hope you’ll stay with us a long time. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we are in need of a nap.” With that she exited.

  “Well, it’s my house, too,” Janey grumbled. “Don’t I have any say about it?”

  “You have enough to do just getting well,” Brodie told her with clearly forced gaiety. “Speaking of which, Marcel is preparing a feast in celebration of your having the feeding port removed. No more liquid in a tube! That’s a milestone worthy of celebration, don’t you think? And as a member of the household, Chey will join us, of course.”

  Chey acknowledged this with a practiced smile, though in truth she did not relish sitting down to table with Janey and Brown. No more, apparently, than Janey, who whined, “Shouldn’t it just be family?”

  “Everyone in this house is family, Janey,” Brodie told her lightly. “Besides, the more the merrier, I always say.”

  “In that case, I want my father and brother here, too,” Janey insisted, and Brodie shrugged in unconcerned acceptance.

  “I’ll set two extra places at the table,” Marcel said, rising.

  “Make that three,” Brodie said, and Chey assumed that the third was for her. “It’ll be a double celebration,” Brodie went on, “the removal of Janey’s feeding tube and new additions to the household.” Janey’s face turned an unbecoming red, but she clamped her jaws shut and flashed a commanding look at Brown.

  “I’ll take you upstairs now for a rest,” the burly nurse mumbled, and Janey nodded limply, suddenly the fragile beauty again.

  “I’d like a word with you in private, Chey,” Brodie said purposefully.

  She nodded and followed him out of the room, aware of Brown and Janey following. At the foot of the stairs he halted, and pointedly waited as Brown pushed Janey’s chair around the corner toward the elevator. Once the pair disappeared from sight, he slipped both arms around Chey and pulled her close.

  “Are you sure this is wise?” Chey whispered, feeling watched.

  “Essential,” he murmured, and proceeded to kiss her with slow, hot deliberation. After he lifted his head again, he said a little too loudly, “If you want me, darling, you know where to find me.”

  The implication was obvious. Chey batted her eyelashes, trying not to let him see just how much she did want him while at the same time allowing others to do so. She stood gazing upward adoringly while Brodie climbed the stairs, then turned and strolled toward her makeshift office, pretending not to hear the sound of rubber tires whirring swiftly over hardwood floors. This was going to be even more difficult than she’d feared. Playing the part of Brodie Todd’s not-very-clandestine lover felt achingly natural and was all too easy, and that alarmed her. The difficulty came in keeping fantasy and reality apart. That, she knew, would be a constant struggle, but it would be worth it if their ploy somehow caused the Shellys to tip their hand and give Brodie the proof he needed to destroy their scheme.

  Chey sensed the tension in the dining room the instant she stepped through the door. The last to arrive, except for Kate and Marcel who would serve before taking their places, she hurried to the table, glancing around as Brodie eased her chair beneath her and took his place at the head, to her immediate right. The two chairs opposite her, on Brodie’s right, were occupied by Janey and Brown, in that order. Then came Janey’s dullard brother Dude and her father Harp, the latter literally radiating fury. The chair on Harp’s right and that at the foot of the table were empty. Seth had been placed next to Chey, at her left, and beside him was Viola. The surprise, and the evident reason for the present consternation, sat next to Viola at the end of the table. A young man with rugged, chiseled features and a thick shock of dark blond hair waving back from his high, intelligent forehead, he was as pretty as he was fit, with bulging biceps and a body builder’s chest.

  “Chey, dear, I believe you know everyone but Nate Begay,” Brodie said, indicating the stranger. “Nate, allow me to introduce Chey Simmons.”

  “How do you do?” she murmured with a perfunctory nod.

  Nate Begay glanced uncertainly around the table, then leaned forward and said politely, “I’ve heard of you, Ms. Simmons. I worked with Jewel Chancery last year after her accident. I believe you did her house.”

  “Yes, I did,” Chey replied with equal cordiality. “How is Jewel, by the way?”

  “Quite well, I think,” he answered smoothly.

  “I’m glad to hear that.” An avid horsewoman, Jewel had taken a bad spill and broken several bones, including vertebrae. She had languished in a coma for a time, then awakened to a difficult prognosis. Uncertain if she would ever walk again, let alone ride, she had apparently descended into a deep depression, emerging only gradually as her physical dexterity had returned. It was interesting that Nate Begay had worked with her. Chey glanced a question at Brodie.

  He smiled and confirmed, “Nate is here to assist Janey with her recovery.”

  “And I was just reminding my husband,”
Janey said tightly, sieving her sugary voice through her teeth, “that I already have a nurse.”

  “Oh, but Nate is specially skilled,” Brodie argued lightly. “He has a wealth of experience in physical and coma therapies, as well as mental illness. He comes very highly recommended, and I’m confident that he’ll soon have you fully recovered.”

  “But what about Brown?” Janey insisted plaintively.

  “What about her?” Brodie returned. “No one’s replacing Brown.”

  “And what if I choose not to cooperate?” Janey demanded, folding her arms beneath a shocking display of bosom.

  “Then I’ll have no choice but to send you to a special hospital where they can see to your recovery properly,” Brodie returned mildly.

  “You can’t send her anywhere!” Dude bawled, and Harp instantly clamped a hand down on his son’s leg so tightly that the younger man winced.

  Janey glanced at Harp, swallowed and said sweetly, “He is my husband, Dude, and he loves me and will do what’s best for me. Isn’t that right, Brodie?”

  “I will definitely do what it takes to make you well again,” Brodie answered blandly. Kate entered the room just then through the butler’s pantry, carrying two trays crowded with small bowls, one in each hand. Brodie shook out his linen napkin, saying, “Now let’s enjoy the fine meal that Marcel has prepared.”

  Kate carried the trays to the table and placed one at each end before taking her seat near the foot. Brodie passed a bowl to Chey, who reached across Seth and handed it to Viola, who in turn passed it to Nate. Kate passed a bowl to Dude, who dug into it with his spoon. Harp reached over and snatched away the bowl, which he plunked down in front of Janey, reaching across Brown to do so. Dude, meanwhile, stabbed his loaded spoon into his mouth, made a face and yelled, “What the hell is that?”