Claiming Her Billion-Dollar Birthright / Falling For His Proper Mistress. Maureen Child
like her. She’s looking forward to meeting you.”
“And my brothers?”
He paused for a long moment before he said, “They’ll come around.”
“Just one big happy family, huh?” Funny, her excitement-driven nerves had become anxiety-driven in the blink of an eye. It seemed there were plenty of hard feelings for everyone to get through before they could even begin to relate to each other.
“You have as much right to be here as they do,” he told her.
“Do I?” Erica shook her head and frowned as she threw out both hands as if to encompass the entire resort. “They grew up here. I’m the interloper. This is their home.”
“The home that every one of them escaped from the minute they got the chance.”
Her hands fell to her sides. “Why did they? Was Don Jarrod such a bad father?”
“Not bad,” he said, crossing the room to stand by her side. “Just busy. Opinionated.” Christian smiled ruefully. “He wasn’t even my father and he was full of orders about what I should do with my life and the best way to do it.”
“Sounds familiar,” Erica mused, strolling to the window and staring out at the pool area and the mountains beyond. “I grew up with a father much like him. Ironic, isn’t it?”
“Maybe that insight will make it easier for you to understand your siblings.”
“I guess we’ll see. Seems strange that this lovely place is practically empty. It’s sad, somehow. That none of the Jarrods want to live in their family home.”
“Well,” Christian allowed, “like I told you, Don wasn’t the easiest father in the world. Most of them have issues with the place and aren’t very happy about the way their father arranged getting them back to Aspen.”
She sighed a little. “So, we’ve got father troubles in common, anyway.”
“You could say that.” He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and watched her as she walked to the sofa in her new home. “Speaking of your father, how’d it go when you spoke with him about all of this?”
Erica shot him a look. “As I expected. He didn’t want me to come.” “Why did you?”
She stopped, leaned over and picked up a throw pillow. She ran her fingertips across the heavily embroidered fabric, then set it down again. “I had to. I had to come and see and …”
“Find yourself?” he offered.
She laughed a little. “Sounds pompous, doesn’t it?”
“Not really. I’ve been lost before. It’s not always easy getting found again.”
Erica tipped her head to one side and studied him. He looked so in control. So at home. So sure of himself, it was hard to imagine that he might have suffered self-doubt or anxiety. But she supposed everyone did from time to time. The trick was to not let those times get the best of you.
She turned around and let her gaze slide across the room that would be her home for who knew how long. There was a hallway off the living room that she assumed led to the bedroom and— “You said there was a stocked kitchen?”
“Yep.” He pointed. “Right through there.”
She went to investigate and off a short hall, she found a two-burner stove, a small refrigerator and several cupboards. The fridge was stocked with water, wine and soda along with fresh vegetables. There was a bowl of fruit on the abbreviated counter and she noticed that the window in the kitchen overlooked an English-style garden.
“You hungry?” Christian’s voice came from directly behind her.
She turned around to look at him and admitted, “Actually, I am.”
“Why don’t we go get some lunch downstairs? I can answer your questions and you can meet one of your brothers at the same time.”
That brother being Guy, she reminded herself. The chef. Well, that meeting just might kill her appetite, but gamely she said, “Give me one minute to freshen up and I’m ready.”
Ready for all of it, she added silently.
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