The Legacy Read Free Page B

board of the company, another uncle who was a powerful United States senator. A third uncle had died a hero in the Korean War. Last year, she’d inherited SwanSea from her grandfather Jake Deverell, the distinguished diplomat and statesman. She had beauty, wealth, social position—and SwanSea. In poker that would be called an almost unbeatable hand. Fortunately, he was very good at playing poker.
    Mindful of his wound, he carefully reached for the switch on the bedside lamp. As he sat up, a blanket slid off him, and he saw his two bags sitting on the floor beside the bed. The idea that someone had been in his room while he slept fired him to action.
    He checked his bags to make sure nothing had been disturbed, then stripped off his sweather and jeans. In the bathroom, he flipped on the light and discovered a stack of thick white towels and washcloths piled beside a black-marble basin with gold faucets in the shape of swans’ heads. Nice, very nice.
    The house was astonishing, and its mistress . . . i
    Looking into the mirror at himself, he shook his head. No. Nico. No.
    Deliberately, he dropped his gaze to the two large gauze-pads on the left side of his upper body, one over his ribs, the other below his heart. He peeled off the bandages and studied the healing wounds, a grim expression on his face. He supposed he should be grateful that Nathan Rettig hadn’t been a better shot. A half inch more to the right and one of the bullets would have punctured his heart. As it was, the first bullet had grazed a rib, and the second had nicked his spleen. The result had been two hellish weeks in the hospital, with only policemen to keep him company.
    He owed Rettig, Nico thought, and he was going to see that he was paid off in spades.
    “Hello,” Caitlln said as Nico walked into the kitchen. She was sitting at the big walnut table in the center of the large room, drinking coffee. And until she saw him, she hadn’t admitted to herself that she’d been waiting for him. “You’re looking a little better.”
    “I feel better," he said honestly. He’d showered and changed into another pair of black jeans, along with a long-sleeved blue-and-black-striped shirt. He’d left the collar open and rolled up the sleeves to his forearms.
    Sexy, she thought, then caught herself. “Next time you tell me you need a room, I’ll respond very quickly.”
    The teasing glints in the green-gold eyes caused a tingling along his nerves. He ignored the sensation. “Sorry to conk out on you like that, but I guess the drive took more out of me than I realized.”
    “Don’t apologize. I understand. ”
    I hope not, he thought. “By the way, my bags were in the room when I woke, and I was wondering who brought them in.”
    The wariness in his seeemingly casual question brought her head up. “I did.”
    He concentrated on excluding all tightness from his expression. “Does that mean I can stay?”
    The answer was on the tip of her tongue, but she forced herself to consider the situation one more times. She folded her hands on the table in front of her and stared at them for a moment. He was already here. She’d taken his bags upstairs herself. And there was her incredible fascination. I’ve got to be crazy. “I’d hate to see you have to start out this time of night and try to find a place.”
    “Is that a yes?”
    She met his gaze. “I guess it is. ”
    “Thank you,” he said allowing himself to relax a degree. “The please call me Nico.”
    “Fine, if you’ll call me Caitlin.”
    Caitlin. The sound of her name rebounded softly through his brain, hitting all sorts of pleasure sensors. But then he remembered. It wouldn’t pay to get too close or to become obligated to the people in this house. His plan was to get in, spend some time, accomplish his tasks, and get back out. Smooth. Without causing a ripple. “I meant it when I said I don’t intend to be a bother.”
    A small smile lifted her lips. “I know, and believe me, I don’t