LITMIR.BIZ

      8

      “Come in,” Mr. Preston said, turning away as soon as he saw Jilly on the doorstep. “I could have lost her, it was that close.”

      In her peripheral vision, Jilly saw Guy enter Edwards Place behind her and shut the massive front door. He’d insisted on coming with her, and even if she’d wanted to refuse, she didn’t have a car to get there on her own.

      She was glad he was there.

      “Laura’s in the salon. Wait with her until the doctors say Edith can have company.”

      “What happened?” Jilly asked.

      Preston stood still, although she felt his need to keep moving. He covered his face and held out an arm to her. “It was a stupid thing,” he said, clamping Jilly to his side when she reluctantly went to him. “She was shaving her legs and managed to cut herself really badly. If she hadn’t been found fast, she wouldn’t be with us.”

      Guy sized up the other man, who had made no attempt to acknowledge him. “Good evening, Mr. Preston,” he said. He hated the way the man pressed Jilly against him. “I’m Jilly’s friend, Guy. I drove her over.”

      Preston lifted his head and his gray-streaked dark hair shone. He was solid, maybe an inch under six foot, and although he had to be in his late fifties, his palpable vitality, his powerful aura, made him seem ten years younger. It didn’t hurt that his suit had been tailored to show off a hard body, or that he had the face of a man made to be on a screen.

      “Who the hell are you?” he said, continuing to hold Jilly. He moved his arm down and rested his hand at her waist. The green shirt she’d changed into rode up from low-rise white pants and Preston’s fingers splayed on her bare skin.

      “As I told you, I’m Jilly’s friend. Her car’s in the shop so I drove her here.” He extended a hand. “Guy Gautreaux.” And I don’t want you or any man touching her like that—unless it’s me.

      “Nice of you,” Preston said, ignoring Guy’s hand. His face showed little emotion, but his eyes made up for that. Mr. Preston didn’t want a friend of Jilly’s around—particularly a male friend. “Would you mind seeing yourself out?”

      Guy was still holding back the first words to his lips and deciding the safest thing to say when Jilly cut in. “Guy, I’d prefer you to wait for me,” she said. “Would that be okay?”

      When she looked at him like that, with a certain intimate confidence, he wanted to get her away, alone. “You’ve got it,” he told her.

      “You’ll want to stay here with your mother tonight,” Preston said, and he brushed his jaw against Jilly’s hair. “She needs you.”

      Manipulative bastard.

      “I don’t want you to worry, mind,” Preston said. “I won’t let anything happen to any of my family.”

      Guy couldn’t take it. “Jilly, if you want me to wait, I will. Otherwise just call when you’re ready.” If he had to watch Preston maul her much longer, he might lose it and punch the guy.

      “If you can stay, I’d like it,” Jilly said. “I do need to be at the shop early.”

      The woman with the explosion of red hair, the one who had turned up at the accident scene that afternoon, came into the marble-tiled hall. She leaned a shoulder against a wall and held her hands together in front of her. Once more he caught the flash of large diamonds on her fingers.

      She said, “Come and sit with me,” with her violet eyes on Guy’s face. “This has been a terrible night. I’m all wrung out. Jilly, I wanted to call you earlier but Daddy wouldn’t hear of it till Edith was more stable.”

      Laura wore gray sweats with pink stripes in various places. He’d bet there was a fancy workout room somewhere in the house, where the lady paid homage to her body.

      Jilly wanted away from Preston. He kept his cologne light but it still sickened her. She also wished Laura weren’t turning her charm on Guy—and that he wouldn’t look her over with more than a spark of interest.

      She patted a lapel on Preston’s silver-gray suit jacket and moved smoothly away from him. “Thank you for taking such good care of Edith,” she said. “Can’t I go up now?”

      He let out a slow breath. “Better wait till they say it’s okay. She’s had a transfusion.”

      So why isn’t the lady in a hospital? Guy thought. With a chopper on the pad in the grounds, how hard could it be to take her in where she could get any care she might need.

      Preston went to Jilly again. He looked deep into her eyes and rubbed circles over her back. The man was grooming her, Guy thought, appalled. And Preston had complete confidence in himself—he thought his efforts were too subtle to be noticed.

      At last the man walked toward an ornate, gilt-trimmed staircase but turned yet again to draw Jilly into his arms. He hugged her, rocked her. “You’ll learn to trust me,” he said. “Just like your mother did. She was so much like you are now when we met—beautiful enough to turn my knees to water.” He released Jilly and laughed. He laughed while he ran upstairs with the springy step of an athlete.

      “He’s such a sweetie,” Laura said. “Let’s have a drink.”

      She led them back the way she’d come, past ivory flocked walls heavy with paintings and lined with marble busts on plinths. Deep-piled

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