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Authors: Anne Stuart
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to." She sounded like a stubborn child. "I'd much rather stay here with you."
Sally closed her eyes, suddenly looking very tired. "Don't fight me on this, Carolyn," she said wearily. "I really don't have the strength for it."
Game, set and match, Alex thought, as Carolyn's face flushed with guilt.
"When do you want us to go?" she asked.
Sally's smile was dazzlingly bright, but the wily old lady didn't overplay her hand. "That's my girl," she murmured weakly.
And Carolyn managed a weak smile in return.
* * *
Carolyn's hands were shaking so hard she dropped the bottle of tranquilizers onto the deserted kitchen floor. The small white pills spilled out over the wide oak plank, rolling under the huge refrigerator, and she watched them go with a blank expression. Sally's doctor had prescribed them, insisting she might need them during Sally's long, slow journey toward death.
She hadn't touched them until Alexander MacDowell had showed up. If things didn't take a sharp turn for the better she was going to need every one of those little white pills and more besides.
She knelt down, scooping them up, when she heard someone push open the kitchen door. There was never any question who it was, she thought bitterly. Of the nine people in the house, it could only be the one person she most wanted to avoid.
"What are you scrabbling around on the floor for?" George's faintly supercilious baritone startled her into dropping the pills she had.
She ignored them, rising gracefully, too distracted by the unavoidable knowledge that she was disappointed it wasn't Alex, when she'd been so certain it would be. "Can I help you, George?"
George, like his sister, had fashion-model looks and the personality to match. "I'm hungry. You want to rustle me up a sandwich?"
"No." She'd learned long ago how to deal with George. He was a user, adept at getting people to do what he wanted, and she had no intention of joining his mother and sisters in catering to his whims.
George shrugged, obviously expecting her answer, and slouched on into the kitchen. His tan was deep and perfect, the product of his top-of-the-line health club. It kept his body in excellent shape as well, and he had a tendency to close in on people, press that trim, well-muscled flesh against them. Carolyn kept the kitchen island between them.
"So what do you think of him, Caro ?" he asked casually. "Do you think he's the real McCoy?"
"What do you think?"
"I haven't the faintest idea. It's no skin off my nose—I wasn't in line for any of Sally's money anyway, except indirectly, and I have more than enough for my needs."
"I find that hard to believe."
George's smile revealed small, perfect teeth. "Well, I will admit that the more money, the better. But I'm a patient man—and good things come to those who wait. You, on the other hand, have a very great deal to lose if this man is actually who he says he is."
She stared at him stonily. "Don't be ridiculous."
"Oh, I'm not talking about money," he said softly. "After all, we both know you aren't legally family . I'm sure Sally's left you a generous stipend, but you're a clever girl. You wouldn't be expecting more. No, you stand to lose something more important than money."
"I didn't think you realized there was anything more important than money, George."
But George was undeterred. "You'll lose Sally's single-minded devotion. For the last few months she's been totally dependent on you, and you've had her all to yourself. She won't need you anymore, Caro . She'll have Sonny Boy for love and affection. You'll be relegated to the position of unpaid companion."
George was not the brightest of men, but he had a certain animal instinct shared by the rest of his family, and he had an uncanny ability to draw blood. Fortunately, Carolyn was expecting it.
"I'm not worried about it, George. My apartment's still waiting for me back in Boston , and I shouldn't have any trouble finding another job. Though it's very nice of you to be so
Sally closed her eyes, suddenly looking very tired. "Don't fight me on this, Carolyn," she said wearily. "I really don't have the strength for it."
Game, set and match, Alex thought, as Carolyn's face flushed with guilt.
"When do you want us to go?" she asked.
Sally's smile was dazzlingly bright, but the wily old lady didn't overplay her hand. "That's my girl," she murmured weakly.
And Carolyn managed a weak smile in return.
* * *
Carolyn's hands were shaking so hard she dropped the bottle of tranquilizers onto the deserted kitchen floor. The small white pills spilled out over the wide oak plank, rolling under the huge refrigerator, and she watched them go with a blank expression. Sally's doctor had prescribed them, insisting she might need them during Sally's long, slow journey toward death.
She hadn't touched them until Alexander MacDowell had showed up. If things didn't take a sharp turn for the better she was going to need every one of those little white pills and more besides.
She knelt down, scooping them up, when she heard someone push open the kitchen door. There was never any question who it was, she thought bitterly. Of the nine people in the house, it could only be the one person she most wanted to avoid.
"What are you scrabbling around on the floor for?" George's faintly supercilious baritone startled her into dropping the pills she had.
She ignored them, rising gracefully, too distracted by the unavoidable knowledge that she was disappointed it wasn't Alex, when she'd been so certain it would be. "Can I help you, George?"
George, like his sister, had fashion-model looks and the personality to match. "I'm hungry. You want to rustle me up a sandwich?"
"No." She'd learned long ago how to deal with George. He was a user, adept at getting people to do what he wanted, and she had no intention of joining his mother and sisters in catering to his whims.
George shrugged, obviously expecting her answer, and slouched on into the kitchen. His tan was deep and perfect, the product of his top-of-the-line health club. It kept his body in excellent shape as well, and he had a tendency to close in on people, press that trim, well-muscled flesh against them. Carolyn kept the kitchen island between them.
"So what do you think of him, Caro ?" he asked casually. "Do you think he's the real McCoy?"
"What do you think?"
"I haven't the faintest idea. It's no skin off my nose—I wasn't in line for any of Sally's money anyway, except indirectly, and I have more than enough for my needs."
"I find that hard to believe."
George's smile revealed small, perfect teeth. "Well, I will admit that the more money, the better. But I'm a patient man—and good things come to those who wait. You, on the other hand, have a very great deal to lose if this man is actually who he says he is."
She stared at him stonily. "Don't be ridiculous."
"Oh, I'm not talking about money," he said softly. "After all, we both know you aren't legally family . I'm sure Sally's left you a generous stipend, but you're a clever girl. You wouldn't be expecting more. No, you stand to lose something more important than money."
"I didn't think you realized there was anything more important than money, George."
But George was undeterred. "You'll lose Sally's single-minded devotion. For the last few months she's been totally dependent on you, and you've had her all to yourself. She won't need you anymore, Caro . She'll have Sonny Boy for love and affection. You'll be relegated to the position of unpaid companion."
George was not the brightest of men, but he had a certain animal instinct shared by the rest of his family, and he had an uncanny ability to draw blood. Fortunately, Carolyn was expecting it.
"I'm not worried about it, George. My apartment's still waiting for me back in Boston , and I shouldn't have any trouble finding another job. Though it's very nice of you to be so
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