Читать книгу The Ties that Bind - Emilie Rose - Страница 9

Four days on the job—two of which Anna hadn’t seen any sign of her boss.

The good news: he wasn’t trying to take advantage of her and hadn’t made even one untoward move. The bad news: he was completely ignoring his son.

Her anger on behalf of the adorable little boy reactivated her dormant resentment toward her son’s father and her own. Were all men self-absorbed idiots who procreated without thought of the life they were bringing into the world? Did they never consider the emotional needs of a child before unzipping their pants?

To give Hollister credit, he hadn’t spoiled his son with material possessions to make up for his neglect the way her father had. Sure, every request Anna had made had been met almost instantaneously, like her grocery list and the installation of the stair gates and the pool and hot tub alarms. But it wouldn’t kill Hollister to drop by the nursery and share a few minutes of his precious time with his son. The best gifts—like love and attention—were free.

She checked the boys again. Cody’s pink cheeks confirmed he’d finally succumbed to the nap he’d been fighting. She debated her options. Sitting in the nursery and updating her resume as she’d done during the boys’ previous naps didn’t appeal. The sun was shining and the temperature was warm but not too humid. She’d love to sit on the patio with a book. But in the rush she hadn’t packed any of the books she’d picked up at the swap shop.

Perhaps her boss had something she could read? There was only one way to find out. Dread slithered under her skin. She knew he’d be alone since she’d heard Sarah drive out ten minutes ago, and while Anna wasn’t keen on facing the lion in his den, she’d rather do that than stare at the ceiling for two hours. She clipped the baby monitor to her waistband and descended the stairs, heading toward Hollister’s office. She knocked on the closed door.

“In,” his deep voice rumbled through the wood.

She turned the knob and pushed. Hollister sat behind his desk, a pile of papers in front of him. His white polo shirt accentuated his tanned face, broad shoulders and chest muscles. His frown intimidated her, but she’d come this far, she might as well follow through despite her fluttery pulse and a strong urge to run.

“Hi. I’m sorry to bother you, but do you have any books I could borrow? The boys are napping and I—”

“Make it quick.” He pointed at a shelf behind the smaller desk on the opposite side of the room.

“Thanks.” She entered the study and his crisp, clean scent filled her nose. She could feel him watching her as she perused the titles—not in a sinister way, but in a way that made her cells tingle.

Most of the books were business related. She was about to abandon her search when she spotted a hardback thriller by one of her favorite authors. She grabbed it, eager to get started, but paused. “Have you read this yet?”

“No.”

“Oh.” She started pushing it back into its slot.

“Take it.”

“Are you sure?”

He jerked a sharp nod. “I don’t have time to read it.”

“Okay. Thanks.” In a hurry to make her escape, she debated fleeing, but she had a point to make if she could find the courage to voice it.

“I’m enjoying taking care of Graham. He’s a sweet little boy and so cuddly. You and his mother must be very proud—”

“Chatting me up is the wrong way to convince me you didn’t make overtures to that father at your last job.”

Indignation snapped her spine stiff. “I was merely trying to suggest you spare a few moments for your son.”

“He is not my son in any way other than biologically.”

The odd answer rattled her. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to, Ms. Aronson, and if you value your job you will get out of my office. Now.”

When he put it that way…“Yessir.”

She turned, in a hurry to get away from the grouch. Her elbow caught on a bin of paperwork on the smaller desk. The basket tipped over, scattering sheets over the desktop and the floor. Some even floated under the furniture.

She winced. Way to go, Anna.

“I’m sorry. I’ll clean them up.” She dropped to her knees and started collecting the pages. Some were neatly typed and paper-clipped in bundles. Others were handwritten on notebook paper and barely legible, their folded top corners all that held them together. But it was the top line on each cover sheet that caught her attention.

The Sean Rivers Memorial Scholarship.

Then she spotted loafers planted in front of her. Loafers attached to long denim-clad legs, a leather belt and a white shirt. Her heart climbed to her throat. Hollister surprised her by squatting and helping rake up the remaining mess. Their fingers collided, and the heat of his touch jolted through her. She snatched her hand back.

What was that? It couldn’t be attraction. No way. Not to a workaholic.

Alarm? Yes, that’s all it was. A good ol’ case of uneasiness. She didn’t want to be accused of inviting illicit invitations again.

Her gaze shot to his. Only a narrow span of inches separated them. “You’d think after fifteen years of ballet lessons I’d have a little more grace.”

He all but ripped the forms from her hands and stood to tower over her. “Fifteen years and you didn’t pursue it?”

“No amount of enthusiasm or determination can overcome a total lack of rhythm. My dance instructor repeatedly encouraged me to find another hobby, but I had my reasons for sticking with it.”

He didn’t even crack a smile at her self-deprecating tale. She stretched to reach a page far under the desk. Curiosity got the better of her as she rose beside him. “Who is Sean Rivers?”

His perpetual scowl deepened. “My brother.”

“It says ‘Memorial Scholarship.’ Does that mean he’s—”

“Dead. Yes.” Clipped words, devoid of emotion.

Empathy welled inside her. “I’m sorry for your loss. As much as my sister irritates me sometimes I’d hate to lose her. And…all this?” She indicated the stacks.

“Not that it’s any of your business but Hollister Ltd. provides a college scholarship to a deserving student from the foster care system each year.”

The foster care system. And he’d been adopted. Had he and his brother spent time in the system?

She scanned the wire baskets and the stacks within reach of his desk. “You personally select the recipient?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what you’ve been working on?”

His jaw line went rigid. “Among other things. I do have a company to run. Don’t the boys need your attention, Ms. Aronson?”

“They’re napping. And I’ll hear them when they wake.” She indicated the monitor. “But I’ll let you get back to work. Thanks for loaning me the book. And please stop by the nursery if you get a chance. Graham would love to spend time with his daddy.”

He flinched then his expression turned thundercloud dark. She fled.

But now she knew her boss had at least one redeeming characteristic beneath his armor plating. He was generous to others.

Just not his own son. And that was unforgivable.

“If you’re happy and you know it beat your drum,” Anna sang to the boys.

Cody and Graham each pounded out his own tempo with a wooden spoon on the copper bottom of a pot borrowed from Hollister’s well-equipped kitchen.

The door to the room designated as the nursery burst open, revealing her boss. “What in the hell are you doing?”

The boys fell silent. Graham’s bottom lip quivered. He scuttled into Anna’s lap and hid his face in her breasts. She wrapped her arms around him. Was he afraid of his father?

“Having music time. Are we disturbing you?”

“Yes.” A muscle in Hollister’s rock-hard jaw twitched and the veins on his forehead protruded.

“Odie pay,” her son warbled, making Anna smile despite the ogre in the room.

“Yes, Cody is playing his drum,” she enunciated slowly in an effort to help his budding language development.

Cody banged his pot, drawing Graham out of hiding. Hollister’s son clapped his hands and both boys chortled infectiously. The two of them together were so adorable. For a moment Anna thought she saw her boss’s expression soften with something like…yearning?

Her son uncharacteristically offered his spoon to Hollister. “Man pay.”

Hollister stared, blank-faced.

“Cody is asking if you would like to take a turn with his drum.”

The lines bracketing her boss’s mouth deepened. “No. Keep it quiet. I’m trying to work.”

Another echo from her past. She’d tried so many times as a child to engage her father. “We’ll try.”

“Don’t try. Do it.” He pivoted with a military snap of muscles and left the room, dragging the air from Anna’s lungs with him. She stared at the empty open door, listening to the retreat of his angry footsteps.

“If you’re grumpy and you know it pat your drum,” she mumbled under her breath. “Okay, boys, bath time.”

Surely Hollister couldn’t complain about the boys splashing too loudly. Cody squealed with excitement—an ear-piercing sound that might bring her boss stomping back, then Graham joined in. Anna cringed, but when Hollister didn’t barrel back into the room she herded the imps toward the bathroom.

She knelt by the garden tub, stripped the boys down and had them happily paddling in the shallow water within minutes. Keeping an eye on two slippery bathers required unblinking vigilance, but their joy in the experience made it worth her while.

She shampooed Graham’s dark hair then Cody’s red locks, laughing at their comical expressions. She’d always expected to have children, and definitely more than one. But not before Todd had found a job and they’d built up a nest egg. But life had other plans.

She didn’t regret rejecting Todd’s knee-jerk suggestion to terminate her pregnancy. She’d thought she’d convinced him they could make their little family work, that if they budgeted carefully, her salary was enough to support the three of them until he sold some of his songs. She’d believed he’d accepted her decision to have Cody.

But time and his disappearance had proven her wrong and her parents right. They’d told her repeatedly that Todd was irresponsible and mooching off her, but she’d been convinced they were only pressuring her to find a man just like her father—the way her sister had—and she’d ignored their warnings.

Using the handheld showerhead Anna rinsed the last of the soap from Cody then Graham. She dried Graham first, set him on the bath mat and handed him one of Cody’s rubber bath boats to keep him occupied. “Wait for me to dry Cody, sweetie.”

She turned back to her son. Cody splashed and managed to get soap in his eyes. He wailed. Anna rinsed him again. She heard Graham cackle with laughter but the sound had come from outside the bathroom. She whirled around in time to see him bolt through the bedroom door. Her heart kicked wildly. She hoped Hollister had remembered to latch the stair gate.

Snatching up Cody without even bothering with a towel, she raced after her charge. Graham’s naked little legs pumped furiously. “Graham. Stop. Graham!”

The little fugitive chugged past the gate—which was closed, thank heaven, down a hall and around a corner to a wing of the house Anna hadn’t explored yet. She struggled to hold on to Cody’s slippery wet body. Graham disappeared through a set of double open doors. Anna barreled through it right behind him.

Hollister, shirtless, stared aghast at his son then lifted his disapproving gaze to Anna. Anna jerked to a halt.

Her boss’s chest looked like a sculpture, the muscles well-defined and encased in tight, tanned skin with a dusting of dark hair across his pectorals. He had a six-pack or an eight-pack or—wow, how many abdominal muscles were there anyway?—above his low-riding jeans. And those muscles were nothing compared to the big ones roping his arms and shoulders.

Anna’s pulse pounded like a jackhammer, and tension twisted low in her belly. Her face and body filled with heat. Embarrassment, she assured herself, because she’d just blundered into the man’s bedroom.

But she knew better. It might have been almost two years since she’d experienced it, but she recognized the bite of desire. Why now? And why for him, a man whose attitude toward his son infuriated her?

“What in the hell is going on?” Hollister barked, effectively stopping Graham.

“I’m sorry. Graham got away from me after his bath.”

Anna’s peripheral vision captured the king bed, covered with a black spread. Running shorts and a tank top draped across one corner. The room had white carpet, black glossy furniture, a beautiful stone fireplace and a huge window overlooking the river behind the house.

They’d obviously caught Hollister changing and if they’d arrived a minute later…She gulped and momentarily squeezed her eyes shut. He might have been as naked as the boys. She refocused on her quarry.

“Your little guy is quite the runner. Like father, like son, huh?”

Hollister didn’t even crack a smile.

She gulped. “Come on, Graham.”

The wide-eyed tot stood frozen, staring up at the glowering man above him. His bottom lip quivered. Anger sparked inside her. A child should not fear his father.

“Graham, let’s go get dressed, sweetie,” she cajoled, but the tot remained rooted.

“And now the update we’ve been promising you on the disappearance of international news correspondent Katherine Hersh,” a voice said from the huge flat-screen TV hanging on the wall. Hollister’s head whipped toward the screen. His body tensed. His jaw clamped granite hard.

Anna backed a step. “We’ll just g—”

“Quiet,” he barked and Anna stopped much as Graham had earlier.

“We have not been able to ascertain why Hersh was targeted three weeks ago, and none of the extremist groups in the region where her film crew last saw her are claiming responsibility for her abduction. The area where she went missing is known for its civil uprisings over the past decade. If you remember, Hersh’s brother was killed within fifty miles of here two years ago while he was covering the coup for a competing network. The rebels have yet to demand a ransom, and even if they do and it’s paid there’s no guarantee Hersh will be released unharmed. And the longer she’s held without hearing from her abductors, the more dire the outcome appears. At the moment we are trying to ascertain if she’s still alive.”

“She is, damn it,” Hollister snarled. Only then did Anna notice the TV remote he held in a white-knuckle grip.

“Hersh has logged many reports from similar volatile locations, and this isn’t her first brush with danger. She’s one of the savviest correspondents employed by any of the major networks and has often been said to have a sixth sense of impending danger. But if she does, that intuition failed her three weeks ago.