Read Online Entangled by Barbara Ellen Brink - Free Book Online Page A

his grip on the steering wheel had
tightened considerably, both hands now in place at eleven and two
o’clock.
    I released an exasperated breath and stuffed
the blank pages back in the envelope, my movements deliberately
angry. Every time I felt the least bit of attraction for this guy I
instantly regretted it. “I’m not trying to pull anything. But
unless Uncle Jack wrote in invisible ink and thought I owned a
decoder ring, he didn’t leave any message in this envelope other
than a key.” I hadn’t meant to bring up the subject of the key, but
now it sat between us like a giant mime waiting to be
acknowledged.
    I stared straight ahead, watching the bright
white lines of the highway unfurl before us, mile markers come and
go, vineyards, lush with leaves and blooms stretch off past my
peripheral vision. I felt his gaze on me more than once but he
didn’t speak, not until we turned into the long drive of
Fredrickson Vineyard and pulled up to the house, tires crunching on
gravel as dust stirred behind us and slowly settled back down,
leaving a layer of white on the once shiny black car.
    “I’m sorry. It’s really none of my
business…” he began.
    “No, it’s not.” I opened the door and climbed
out, then turned back to glare in at him. “My uncle left all of
this to me, and you hate me for it. What — did you think because
he paid your way through college he thought of you as a son?
Haven’t you heard? Blood is thicker than water.” I slammed the door
and started up the walk, fumbling in my purse for the house
key.
    I heard the other car door slam as I fumbled
with the lock. I didn’t turn to look back but I knew he was
following me. I kicked the door shut and headed for the kitchen,
desperate for a cup of coffee and some aspirin.
    My cell phone rang as I dropped my purse on
the dining table. I pulled it out and flipped it open on my way to
fill up the carafe with water. “Hello?”
    “Billie? It’s me.” Kent’s familiar voice
stopped me in my tracks. I stood with the pitcher in hand, staring
out the window above the sink, as Handel knocked insistently at the
front door. I couldn’t say anything. “Are you there? Billie?”
    Handel wasn’t stymied for long with an
unanswered door. He strode into the kitchen looking like a hellion
come to wreak havoc. Criminal lawyer and criminal were very close
to the same thing in my book. “Billie, I want to talk to you,” he
said, the apologetic tone replaced now with frustrated anger. He
didn’t seem to know what to be more upset about, the letter, my
accusations, or my shutting the door in his face.
    At the look in his eye I suddenly forgot Kent
was on the line and lowered the phone to my side. “What are you
doing in my house?” I demanded. I pointed the phone at him as
though it were a weapon. “Take your accusations, your intrusive
behavior, and your nasty California temperament and get out!”
    “Billie? Billie! What’s going on? Who are you
talking to?” Kent asked, his voice tinny and small, coming through
the airwaves from Minnesota.
    A smile stretched over my face, a mask of
perfect timing and revenge. It all depended on which one I wanted
to hurt more. Kent drew the short straw. Handel paused in the
doorway as I raised the phone to my ear. “Kent? Sorry I didn’t get
back to you. Just been having too much fun around here.”
    He was silent for a moment. “I see. Well, why
didn’t you tell me you were going to California? I could have
rearranged some things and flown out with you. Maybe caught a game
in San Francisco while we were there.”
    I didn’t ask the question in my mind; what
sort of things would you rearrange, Kent, the women you meet at the
Bull Pen; but just laughed lightly. “That’s quite all right. I have
plenty of male companionship right here. In fact, I’m with a man
right now. So I’ve really got to go. Bye.” I flipped the phone
closed and met Handel’s gaze, his lips curved in amusement. He
tried to hide it but