Chasing Memories: The Forevermore Series, Book 2 Read Free

spot with Grams at his side, him sipping a glass of scotch as he did now, and her, a goblet of Pinot Noir? They’d talk for hours, about everything under the sun. He missed those conversations. If only he’d found time to see her over the last few months. Instead, he’d let work stand in his way. Now…
    The image of her broken body lying on the side of the road stormed into his mind. He shuddered. Now, it was too late. Never again would he see her smiling face, hear her bold, hearty laugh, or feel the warmth and security of her hugs. His gut twisted.
    “Lucas?” a feminine voice called.
    Grams? He jerked his head toward the sound. A tall, slim woman with wide blue eyes and a mass of wild blonde curls stood in the open doorway. Not Grams. Shit. He needed to get a grip, and fast. But Lord, Amanda sounded so much like his grandmother, and for a minute he’d believed it to be her. Idiot, idiot, idiot. “Yes?”
    “I wanted to make sure you’re okay before Mother and I head out.”
    He nodded. “I’m fine. Have the last of the guests left?”
    “Yes.” She rushed over and threw her arms around him.
    Lucas stiffened, then forced himself to relax. Amanda might be his cousin, but they’d never been close over the years. He hadn’t been close to Aunt Susan, either. Grams had been the glue that held them all together.
    “I miss Grams. So much.”
    He did too. More than he’d ever dreamed possible. His hands started to shake. He wanted to kill the son of a bitch responsible for her death. If not India Leone, then who? He wanted answers and would damned well get them.
    Wrapping his arms around Amanda, he tried to comfort her the best he could. She eased away from him a few moments later, offered him a watery smile and wiped the tears from her pale face.
    “Sorry about that.”
    “No problem.”
    “Mr. Morgan.”
    Lucas turned toward the door. Evelyn’s housekeeper, a widow in her mid-fifties, came toward them. “What is it, Mrs. Scofield?”
    “You have a phone call. Mr. Brett Walker.”
    “Thank you. I’ll take it in here.” The housekeeper nodded and then turned to leave and Lucas walked over to the antique mahogany desk at the far end of the room to answer.
    “Business can wait.” Amanda’s voice shook. “We just buried Grams this morning, for goodness’ sakes.”
    Maybe, but he wanted the distraction. “Hello, Brett. What’s going on?”
    “Sorry to bother you, especially today.”
    “No bother.” Having Brett at his side for the past week had kept Lucas sane. Hiring him had been one of his best business moves. Brett knew him well enough from their college days to take care of the mundane details with the Acquati property renovations in Miami Beach. Hell, Lucas would never have considered opening the second hotel without him. “Always contact me with problems. What’s wrong?”
    “The interior designer we hired for the Miami property renovations walked off the job today.”
    Lucas stiffened. “What?”
    “He said you don’t understand his vision and you are stifling his creativity. He can’t work with someone who won’t allow him to express himself freely.”
    He slammed the tumbler down on the hard surface. The impact jarred the remaining liquid and it spilled onto the gleaming wood. He swore. “Is this some kind of joke?”
    “No. I wish it was.”
    Shit. This is what happened when you mixed business with pleasure. Why had he let Rihanna talk him into hiring her whack-job of a brother, Bartholomew, to do the renovations? Bart’s credentials had been impressive, but when push came to shove, the man had no idea how to create the high-end Miami Beach experience Lucas was looking for. What the hell were you thinking? He hadn’t. That was the problem.
    Mark my words, Lucas. One of these days your womanizing ways are going to get you into trouble. Smarten up and start using the brain God gave you instead of letting another part of your anatomy dictate your actions. Evelyn’s words made him