His for the Taking by Julie Cohen Page B

of her family.
    ‘I mean, it was such a shock,’ Cindy continued. ‘I just thought she would’ve left it to somebody more—’
    ‘Cindy,’ rebuked Jade.
    The guardedness returned to Zoe’s face.
    ‘Responsible? Worthy? Someone who deserved it?’ she said.
    ‘Not that,’ the middle sister chimed in quickly, ‘just someone who wasn’t quite so—’
    ‘Quite so what, Diana?’
    Zoe was still smiling, but only with her mouth.
    ‘I mean,’ Di said, ‘you’ve always been a little on the wild side, haven’t you?’
    Her mother stepped in. ‘Di and Cynthia are just curious, Zoe, they don’t mean—’
    ‘No, Mom, they’re exactly right,’ Zoe said, and her voice was bright again. ‘Excuse me, I’ve got to talk to the undertaker about the funeral I arranged.’
    She turned and walked back down the aisle. Nick went after her.
    ‘Are you all right?’ he asked softly, touching her velvet-covered arm.
    ‘I’m fine.’
    He stopped her with more pressure on her arm. ‘Zoe, they shouldn’t have been speaking to you like that. They might be hurt by your great-aunt’s will, but that’s no excuse to criticise you.’
    ‘It’s nothing new, Nick. Look at them.’ She gestured to where the Drakes were talking among themselves, shaking their heads. ‘My family is good-looking, successful, married. I’m the one who’s a failure; I always have been. Don’t let it bother you; it doesn’t bother me.’
    ‘I think that’s a lie.’
    For a moment her blue eyes met his and he could see the pain. Then she was shaking her head and putting on her wide grin.
    ‘Like I always say, the best revenge is not to care. And besides, we know they didn’t know Aunt Xenia as well as we do.’
    She winked at him, her bravado back in place. ‘Anyway, this isn’t finding you your father, and the guests are starting to arrive now. If you sit in the back, there, you should be able to see everyone who comes in.’
    And that was a dismissal if he’d ever heard one. ‘Zoe, this funeral is going to be difficult enough for you without you and your family winding each other up.’
    ‘Leave my family to me, Nick,’ she said firmly. ‘You concentrate on yours, okay? Besides, you’d better get your hand off me or everyone will really start thinking you’re after me for my money.’
    This time he took the hint. He stopped touching her and went to stand near the entrance to the side chapel, where he would be able to see every person coming to the funeral. Guests entered in pairs, groups, singly, talking softly among themselves. They appeared to be from all walks of life. Several women wore elaborate designer outfits, but there were also plainer clothes, work uniforms underneath sombre overcoats, jeans and construction boots. Xenia apparently had made friends with everyone from her local fast-food workers to the cream of Manhattan society.
    And yet as he searched faces, glanced at hands, he was thinking about Zoe and her family.
    Even as an outsider, even from that short interaction, he could see the Drake family dynamic. Zoe didn’t fit in and probably never had. But her family was trying in their own way—maybe not all her sisters, but her parents. Her mother tried to give her compliments and to talk with her about clothes, as she probably did easily with her other, fashion-conscious daughters. Her father was being protective of her, especially where another man was concerned.
    But Zoe didn’t hear their concern; she heard their implicit criticism of her appearance, her choices, her life. And her way of defending herself against them was to confirm their worst suspicions, turn her pain into a wisecrack.
    Her family hurt because she seemed to rebuff their love; Zoe hurt because their love seemed a cover-up for their disappointment.
    The crowd had assembled; John took the pulpit and began to speak. Nick drew in a deep lily-scented breath and chose a chair stationed at the back, turning it slightly towards the entrance so he could