tonight and it'll be my last. I've found out that drinking myself senseless doesn't solve my problems."
"I'm glad you've made one right decision since coming back to the Gulf. I was beginning to wonder if you were incapable of learning from your mistakes."
"Yeah, well, I've learned something else, too. Something I should have learned five years ago." Mitch took a deep, cleansing breath. "When you give me advice, I should take it. If I'd listened to you, I would have told Emily that I was M. R. Hayden the day I introduced myself to her on the beach."
"Better late than never." Zed glanced down at his gold Rolex. "It's only
eight o'clock
. You can be in Point Clear in forty-five minutes. Tell her tonight."
"She's not at home tonight. She's having dinner with her uncle here in Mobile . At his house. She's very fond of Fowler Jordan. She told me that he kept her alive when she wanted to die, after her husband's death…" Mitch's voice trailed off. He couldn't bear to think about how much Emily had lost because of Styles and Hayden. "Emily said that Jordan wouldn't let her give up. She thinks she owes him her life."
"From what I've heard, she gave him five years of her life."
"And he gave her five years of his."
Zed lifted his arms up and behind his head, leaning back into the soft, thick cushion. "I don't know Jordan personally, but we do have several friends and associates in common. And they say that Jordan is more than devoted to Emily. They say…" Zed hesitated, focusing his attention directly on Mitch "They say he's obsessed with her, and that when she moved out of his house, he was distraught. It seems Jordan had picked out a new mate for Emily, someone he knew he could control. Someone willing to take his nephew Stuart's place not only in Jordan 's accounting firm, but in his home, as Emily's husband."
"Sounds like Jordan didn't intend to lose a niece when she remarried—he just planned on gaining an obedient replacement nephew."
"Be prepared for Jordan 's wrath when he finds out about you," Zed warned. "Make no mistake about it. Jordan hates M. R. Hayden, and he'll do his damnedest to make sure Emily never forgives you."
Mitch stared at the whiskey bottle, badly wanting another drink. He was in an untenable position and he had no one to blame but himself. He had walked into this relationship with Emily Jordan with his eyes wide open, knowing full well he had no right to keep his identity from her. He had unintentionally helped ruin her life five years ago. But this time his common sense had told him that he was going to hurt Emily if he lied to her, and still he had gone with his gut emotions—his damn male desires—and pursued Emily like a lover.
Zed was right. He had been obsessed with Emily for five years and now that he'd gotten to know her, he was more obsessed than ever. If only he'd never talked to her, never touched her, never looked into her whiskey-brown eyes, never tasted her sweet, hot mouth.
What the hell was he going to do? He didn't want to lose Emily. Not as a friend. Not as a… As a what? A lover? They weren't lovers. Not yet. But Emily felt the sexual attraction between them as strongly as he did. He knew that she wanted him. With every look, every shy smile, every kiss, she told him silently of her desire. In spite of her declaration to the contrary, Mitch knew that sooner or later, she would allow him to become her lover.
But not if she knew he was M. R. Hayden.
* * *
Emily shifted uncomfortably in the carved mahogany Chippendale chair. She covered her mouth to hide a yawn.
"Are we boring you, my dear?" Fowler Jordan asked, his dark-blue eyes focusing on Emily.
"I'm sorry, Uncle Fowler." She smiled at him apologetically, her look beseeching his forgiveness for her rudeness. She knew one of the things Uncle Fowler had always liked about her was her old-fashioned Southern good manners. Grammy had set great store in good manners. As a child, Emily remembered countless times Grammy had
"I'm glad you've made one right decision since coming back to the Gulf. I was beginning to wonder if you were incapable of learning from your mistakes."
"Yeah, well, I've learned something else, too. Something I should have learned five years ago." Mitch took a deep, cleansing breath. "When you give me advice, I should take it. If I'd listened to you, I would have told Emily that I was M. R. Hayden the day I introduced myself to her on the beach."
"Better late than never." Zed glanced down at his gold Rolex. "It's only
eight o'clock
. You can be in Point Clear in forty-five minutes. Tell her tonight."
"She's not at home tonight. She's having dinner with her uncle here in Mobile . At his house. She's very fond of Fowler Jordan. She told me that he kept her alive when she wanted to die, after her husband's death…" Mitch's voice trailed off. He couldn't bear to think about how much Emily had lost because of Styles and Hayden. "Emily said that Jordan wouldn't let her give up. She thinks she owes him her life."
"From what I've heard, she gave him five years of her life."
"And he gave her five years of his."
Zed lifted his arms up and behind his head, leaning back into the soft, thick cushion. "I don't know Jordan personally, but we do have several friends and associates in common. And they say that Jordan is more than devoted to Emily. They say…" Zed hesitated, focusing his attention directly on Mitch "They say he's obsessed with her, and that when she moved out of his house, he was distraught. It seems Jordan had picked out a new mate for Emily, someone he knew he could control. Someone willing to take his nephew Stuart's place not only in Jordan 's accounting firm, but in his home, as Emily's husband."
"Sounds like Jordan didn't intend to lose a niece when she remarried—he just planned on gaining an obedient replacement nephew."
"Be prepared for Jordan 's wrath when he finds out about you," Zed warned. "Make no mistake about it. Jordan hates M. R. Hayden, and he'll do his damnedest to make sure Emily never forgives you."
Mitch stared at the whiskey bottle, badly wanting another drink. He was in an untenable position and he had no one to blame but himself. He had walked into this relationship with Emily Jordan with his eyes wide open, knowing full well he had no right to keep his identity from her. He had unintentionally helped ruin her life five years ago. But this time his common sense had told him that he was going to hurt Emily if he lied to her, and still he had gone with his gut emotions—his damn male desires—and pursued Emily like a lover.
Zed was right. He had been obsessed with Emily for five years and now that he'd gotten to know her, he was more obsessed than ever. If only he'd never talked to her, never touched her, never looked into her whiskey-brown eyes, never tasted her sweet, hot mouth.
What the hell was he going to do? He didn't want to lose Emily. Not as a friend. Not as a… As a what? A lover? They weren't lovers. Not yet. But Emily felt the sexual attraction between them as strongly as he did. He knew that she wanted him. With every look, every shy smile, every kiss, she told him silently of her desire. In spite of her declaration to the contrary, Mitch knew that sooner or later, she would allow him to become her lover.
But not if she knew he was M. R. Hayden.
* * *
Emily shifted uncomfortably in the carved mahogany Chippendale chair. She covered her mouth to hide a yawn.
"Are we boring you, my dear?" Fowler Jordan asked, his dark-blue eyes focusing on Emily.
"I'm sorry, Uncle Fowler." She smiled at him apologetically, her look beseeching his forgiveness for her rudeness. She knew one of the things Uncle Fowler had always liked about her was her old-fashioned Southern good manners. Grammy had set great store in good manners. As a child, Emily remembered countless times Grammy had
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