LITMIR.BIZ

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was anything to go by.

      A noise at the door alerted him to the presence of the housekeeper-cum-cook he’d inherited along with Dexter when he’d bought the house from Rex Mitchell a couple years ago.

      “Ah, lovey, what have you done to yourself?” Mrs. Dexter muttered under her breath as she pressed a hand to Piper’s forehead. “And your beautiful hair, what on earth is this?”

      “I believe they’re called dreadlocks,” Wade said dryly, his lip curling with derision.

      Trust Piper to arrive on his doorstep looking like some refugee from another country. It was just the kind of plea for attention they’d all come to expect from her during her late teens.

      Mind you, why should he be surprised? It amazed him to realize, deep down, he’d still hoped that she might have changed. But, no. In typical Piper fashion, she’d proven time and again that there was only one person who she cared about in this world, and that person was herself. And nothing and no one would ever get in the way of her pleasure. Not even her dying father.

      Not even the baby she’d almost had.

      Dexter reappeared in the doorway to Piper’s room.

      “Mr. Collins, your guests?”

      “Yes, thank you, Dexter. I’ll be down immediately.”

      Walking away from the woman on the bed, he returned to the gathering below. The gathering that was supposed to be a celebration of the life of the man who had given Wade every opportunity to shake off the dregs of his upbringing and excel. Rex Mitchell had been an ornery bastard at times, but he’d had a heart bigger than most and believed in rewarding hard work. And he’d loved his daughter, who had repaid him for that love by walking away from him without a backward glance. Sure, he’d tried to control Piper, but she’d been headstrong and needed a firm hand to guide her. For all the good that had done any of them.

      Wade joined the throng in the ballroom of the stately home that was as much a part of Auckland’s history as the families who had lived within its walls. He carried on, going through the motions, accepting messages of condolence, sharing stories that brought bittersweet smiles to everyone there. Finally, though, it all had to end and he was alone. Alone except for the Dexters, still clearing away glassware and dishes, and for the woman who’d remained upstairs.

      Just when would she show her face again? he thought. Well, he wasn’t in a hurry to force a confrontation. The outcome was bound to be less than pleasant.

      He crossed the hall into the library, and made his way straight to the sideboard. The cognac gurgled satisfyingly from the neck of its bottle, the amber liquid splashing within the bowl of its receptor. Continuing the ritual he had enjoyed most evenings—before Rex’s illness had left him weak and bed bound—Wade settled into the wingback chair beside the fire and lifted the glass in a silent toast to the empty chair on the other side.

      “I see you couldn’t wait to hit Dad’s cognac.”

      Wade stiffened at the sound of Piper’s voice from the entrance but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing how much she got under his skin with her choice of words. She, better than anyone, knew how he felt about alcohol and its disrespectful consumption.

      “Care to join me?” he drawled in response, not even bothering to turn his face toward her.

      “Sure, why not.”

      He heard her pour herself a measure then move across the hand-knotted carpet that covered the floor between them. With a tired sigh she settled into the chair that had been her father’s. The fresh clean scents of soap and a light fragrance teased his nostrils. He cast her a glance. She’d showered and changed into a clean pair of jeans and a finely woven sweater. Beneath the fabric he could make out the lines of her bones. Even her face was more angular now. Harder, more experienced. A far cry from the spoiled young woman who’d taken his heart and crushed it beneath the soles of her feet when she’d walked out eight years ago.

      “I can’t believe he’s really gone,” she said softly.

      He knew what she meant. Even he’d found it hard to face facts when Rex had handed the business reins over to him eighteen months ago. And before that, when Rex had negotiated the sale of his ancestral home to Wade to prevent it from sliding into a developer’s hands after his death.

      “Yeah, well, he is.”

      “I never thought he’d die.”

      “Neither did he, at first. The success rate for beating testicular cancer was in his favor.”

      “Cancer? I thought he died of a heart attack.”

      “What made you think that?”

      “I don’t know. I had no idea he was sick. I just assumed it was his heart. He always worked so hard.”

      Wade watched as her eyes washed with tears. He hadn’t agreed with Rex’s decision to withhold the details of his illness on the rare occasions Piper had made telephone contact. In recent months, the older man’s stubbornness on the matter had been the only contentious bone between them. Rex hadn’t believed Piper was strong enough to handle the stress of his illness, but with Piper as Rex’s only living issue, Wade knew Rex deserved to have her there in his final days. And Wade hadn’t really given a damn if she was strong enough for it or not.

      Piper continued, “I’d have come home sooner had I known.”

      “Maybe that’s part of why he didn’t tell you,” Wade retorted, her words just adding fuel to his frustration. She hadn’t seen fit to share those last years of her father’s life with him. Was it supposed to pacify Wade that she’d have been willing to come for Rex’s death?

      She bristled under his words, her eyes clearing instantly and the tears being swiftly replaced with a spark of anger.

      “What do you mean by that?” Piper demanded.

      “Exactly what I said. You know what your father was like. I’m not denying he wanted you home. He wanted that every day you were gone. But I think that deep down he still wanted you to come home because you wanted to, not because you had to.”

      “So you’re saying I disappointed him—again.” Her words were as defensive as the closed expression now on her face.

      “Don’t put words in my mouth, Piper.” He expelled a frustrated huff of air, refusing to rise to her bait, and transferred his gaze to the fireplace. “Above everything, Rex always wanted to shelter you from the big bad world. In this last instance, that included his illness. He didn’t want to put you through everything he was going through. Besides, it’s all relative now, isn’t it?”

      “I think it’s safe to say that we can take my father’s continuing disappointment in me as a given,” she said bitterly before taking a sip of her drink. “You, however, have remained the golden boy.”

      Piper fought back the urge to scream at Wade, to do something, anything to provoke him into a fight. After all, they’d had quite enough practice at it in their time together. It had always been that way between them. Passions running high, emotions deep. All of it crashing madly on the surface. A fight was something she could handle.

      What she couldn’t handle was the irrefutable truth that she’d never see her father again—never hear his booming voice through the home that had been in her family for generations, never feel the warmth of his arms clasping her to his barrel chest. The gaping hole that had taken up residence somewhere near her heart widened.

      She would never have the chance to make it up to him for all the stress and emotional hardship she’d caused ever since, at the age of fourteen, she’d realized the power of her femininity. She knew he’d been sorry to see her leave for overseas shortly after she’d turned twenty, but she’d have been an idiot not to realize that his sorrow was tempered with relief at not having to deal with her, at times, appalling behavior in close quarters anymore.

      Piper put down her glass on the small side table

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