there are some who think you ran off to be with another man. You win either way, as far as the press is concerned. Everyone has found out Ross is a two-timing snake, and the consensus is it would serve him right if you had run off with someone else.”
“Uncle Duncan.” Bronwynn leaned back, polishing off her Twinkie. “Isn’t it funny? I hadn’t thought about him in years. Now here we are in his house quoting him. I just realized I miss him. I missed this house.”
Zane looked around at the dirt and the ruined furniture, the cracked plaster and the peeling wallpaper. “It’s a shame the place went to pot this way. I can’t believe you spent the night here.” She shuddered as she stood up and went to lift Bronwynn’s wedding gown off the grimy floor. “Well, let’s get you packed and out of here.”
“I’m not going back, Zane.”
The briefest beat of silence expressed Zane’s dissatisfaction, then she took a patient breath and said, “No, but we’ll get you moved into a nice hotel, a place where you can relax and think things through.”
“No, Zane,” she said to Zane’s backside as she watched her sister try to restore some order to the suitcase on the floor. She pushed herself to her feet and shoved her hands in the pockets of her silk slacks. “I’m staying here. I do need to think things through, get my life back on track, and decide what direction it’s going to take.” She gave a little shrug. “Might as well be doing something constructive while I’m at it. I’m going to fix this place up.”
“That’s fine, dear,” Zane said. Bronwynn recognized the tone of voice as being the same one Zane used when her son told her he was going to ride his tricycle to Jupiter. “I came by a darling little inn on my way. We’ll get you settled there. I’m sure the proprietors can tell you who to contact to make the necessary repairs.”
Bronwynn rolled her eyes. No one seemed to think she was capable of taking care of herself. First Wade had told her she couldn’t stay alone, now Zane. What these autocrats were going to have to realize was that she was an adult who had every right to make her own decisions, whether they agreed with her or not.
She
needed
to stay. For once she was going to take control of her life instead of allowing herself to simply be swept along. She liked the idea of restoring Foxfire to its former glory. She wanted to do as much of the work as she could with her own two hands. It would be wonderful therapy while she figured out where she wanted to go from there.
And way, way in the back of her mind she was looking forward to having a certain irascible congressman for a neighbor.
“Express those reports up here ASAP, will you, Murph?” Wade took a long drag on his third cigarette of the morning. He looked out the picture window as an extreminator’s van rumbled past.
“Wade, you’re supposed to be taking it easy.”
Wade blew a stream of smoke out on a long sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. He paced as far as the telephone cord would allow. Murphy Mitchell was his friend as well as his right-hand man. Murphy was one of the few people who couldn’t be fooled by Wade’s most charming tone of voice. He used it anyway. “So what’s more relaxing than reading?”
“I can think of a few zillion things more relaxing than reading Brentworth’s tome on paring down the defense budget—sleeping, soaking up the sun, making love with a beautiful woman, to name a few.”
Bronwynn Pierson leaped to the forefront of Wade’s mind. Damn, he thought. One simple kiss had knocked him for a loop. Why had he gone and done a stupid thing like kissing her anyway? He wasn’t the kind of man who let passion rule his actions. He was a logical, practical man. The women he dated were logical, practical women. When they had sex, it was logical, practical sex.
So why was it when he got within an arm’s length of Bronwynn Prescott Pierson, it was hormone happy hour? Even now his
“Uncle Duncan.” Bronwynn leaned back, polishing off her Twinkie. “Isn’t it funny? I hadn’t thought about him in years. Now here we are in his house quoting him. I just realized I miss him. I missed this house.”
Zane looked around at the dirt and the ruined furniture, the cracked plaster and the peeling wallpaper. “It’s a shame the place went to pot this way. I can’t believe you spent the night here.” She shuddered as she stood up and went to lift Bronwynn’s wedding gown off the grimy floor. “Well, let’s get you packed and out of here.”
“I’m not going back, Zane.”
The briefest beat of silence expressed Zane’s dissatisfaction, then she took a patient breath and said, “No, but we’ll get you moved into a nice hotel, a place where you can relax and think things through.”
“No, Zane,” she said to Zane’s backside as she watched her sister try to restore some order to the suitcase on the floor. She pushed herself to her feet and shoved her hands in the pockets of her silk slacks. “I’m staying here. I do need to think things through, get my life back on track, and decide what direction it’s going to take.” She gave a little shrug. “Might as well be doing something constructive while I’m at it. I’m going to fix this place up.”
“That’s fine, dear,” Zane said. Bronwynn recognized the tone of voice as being the same one Zane used when her son told her he was going to ride his tricycle to Jupiter. “I came by a darling little inn on my way. We’ll get you settled there. I’m sure the proprietors can tell you who to contact to make the necessary repairs.”
Bronwynn rolled her eyes. No one seemed to think she was capable of taking care of herself. First Wade had told her she couldn’t stay alone, now Zane. What these autocrats were going to have to realize was that she was an adult who had every right to make her own decisions, whether they agreed with her or not.
She
needed
to stay. For once she was going to take control of her life instead of allowing herself to simply be swept along. She liked the idea of restoring Foxfire to its former glory. She wanted to do as much of the work as she could with her own two hands. It would be wonderful therapy while she figured out where she wanted to go from there.
And way, way in the back of her mind she was looking forward to having a certain irascible congressman for a neighbor.
“Express those reports up here ASAP, will you, Murph?” Wade took a long drag on his third cigarette of the morning. He looked out the picture window as an extreminator’s van rumbled past.
“Wade, you’re supposed to be taking it easy.”
Wade blew a stream of smoke out on a long sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. He paced as far as the telephone cord would allow. Murphy Mitchell was his friend as well as his right-hand man. Murphy was one of the few people who couldn’t be fooled by Wade’s most charming tone of voice. He used it anyway. “So what’s more relaxing than reading?”
“I can think of a few zillion things more relaxing than reading Brentworth’s tome on paring down the defense budget—sleeping, soaking up the sun, making love with a beautiful woman, to name a few.”
Bronwynn Pierson leaped to the forefront of Wade’s mind. Damn, he thought. One simple kiss had knocked him for a loop. Why had he gone and done a stupid thing like kissing her anyway? He wasn’t the kind of man who let passion rule his actions. He was a logical, practical man. The women he dated were logical, practical women. When they had sex, it was logical, practical sex.
So why was it when he got within an arm’s length of Bronwynn Prescott Pierson, it was hormone happy hour? Even now his
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