Crazy Love Read online

  He didn’t like it, any of it, and no matter how much his ruthless streak helped take A-Corp to the top, he couldn’t shake the gut-wrenching fear he was the spitting image of George in every way.

  “I ran into him yesterday.”

  While he wished he hadn’t mentioned the G word, it gave him an opening, a way to broach his mom’s feelings for her ex and how they could be influencing her choice of husband number two. “At a café on Rodeo Drive of all places.”

  “I thought you went home to pick up some stuff? Stopped for a Ristretto on the way?”

  “Sierra came with me. She was at a loose end, wanted to do some shopping so she tagged along. That’s how I bumped into George.” Chatting up his date. “No big deal.”

  If he thought mentioning George would result in a swift change of topic, he was wrong. More than likely she’d hone in on the one topic he didn’t want to discuss: his growing interest in Sierra Kent.

  “How is George these days?”

  Oh, she was good. Instead of pouncing on the juicy tidbit of why Sierra had accompanied him to LA, she skirted around the issue. As if she gave a rat’s ass what his letch of a father was up to.

  “The same. Fake, obnoxious, smarmy.”

  He took a deep breath and plunged on, now as good a time as any to broach the subject of her being on the rebound from a man sporting those dubious traits, and hoping he’d distract her from wanting to know more about Sierra.

  “You know what he’s like. After putting up with him for so many years I’m not surprised you’d want to spend time with Hank.”

  “Hank is nothing like your father, thank goodness.”

  She twisted her hands, the same action he’d seen a thousand times when she’d been married to George. Even memories of him were enough to elicit a nervous reaction.

  “Though it’s not the reason I’m marrying Hank if that’s what you’re implying.”

  So much for subtlety.

  Her hands continued to flutter, at odds with her direct stare. “Hank Stevens is a good man and it didn’t take me long to realize it. I’m hoping by spending time here you’ll see it too.”

  “But it happened so fast, Mom.”

  He managed to bite back the rest of what he was about to say: ‘And you met him through an on-line dating agency, how the hell can you really know him?’

  She smiled, a self-satisfied grin he’d never seen. “When you get to my age there’s no use wasting time. Besides, I knew Hank was the one before I met him. We emailed for a while, spoke on the phone several times before I plucked up the courage to meet face to face, though by that time I was already halfway in love with him.”

  Miraculously, her hands stilled while she spoke of her feelings for the farmer. So the guy had a calming affect on her. That wouldn’t last long if he took every cent she had.

  “Why not live together? Why marry?”

  And give Hank easy access to her fortune.

  She shrugged, the same secretive smile playing about her lips. “Because he asked and I love him enough to say yes. Simple.”

  Simple? There was nothing simple about this entire scenario considering his mom had thirty million in assets, her fortune growing daily thanks to his careful investing on her behalf, and he knew next to nothing about the man she was marrying. The sooner that local PI investigating Hank Stevens came through with some info, the better.

  His mom had been lucky to get the money, her aunt leaving her twenty mill in her will and though she hadn’t said it he knew it had been a catalyst in securing her future away from George.

  She’d left him the week after the money came through, going as far as to tell George to shove his paltry settlement of the house during divorce proceedings.

  She could’ve cleaned George out after what she’d endured but she’d wanted to put the past behind, to have nothing to do with the man who was a constant reminder of the hellish years.

  George had never given either of them a cent and they liked it that way; added to the satisfaction of making it on their own, proving money could buy you hair plugs, teeth whitening and a face lift, but couldn’t buy happiness and for all George’s fake bluster, the old guy couldn’t be truly happy. How could he be, when he’d let the best thing in his life walk out the door and shack up with a farmer a scant twelve months after the divorce?

  “I trust Hank one hundred percent, Sweetheart. We have no secrets. A nice change for me, don’t you think?”

  His hands clenched under the table, his gut churning with how much pain she’d tolerated. Along with the psychological abuse, George hadn’t kept his dick in his pants for longer than five seconds according to rumor and despite his mom pretending otherwise while she’d been married to the jerk, she must’ve known about his affairs. In addition to the shoddy treatment she’d endured daily she’d been hurt badly by his philandering, all the more reason for him to protect her this time around.

  “It’s only been a year, Mom. I’m worried you’re moving too fast, that you’re on the rebound—”

  “That’s enough.”

  Her icy tone matched her frigid expression. Yeah, like that would make him stop. He cared too much to let this go, desperate to make her rethink her decision before it was too late.

  He didn’t want to rehash the past, rehash painful memories of a time best left forgotten, but he persisted in the hope of getting through to her.

  “Have you told him about the drinking?”

  Shadows clouded her eyes before she blinked, dispelling them as quickly as every argument he put forward.

  “Yes, I told him everything. We talk all the time. It’s refreshing.”

  Hell, this put a different slant on things. He never expected her to recount the horror of her plunge into despairing alcoholism, to the farmer. She rarely talked about it with him after she’d won her battle with the bottle and he’d been supporting her every step of the AA way.

  Divulging the truth to Hank meant she trusted him, truly believed in him, and went some way to assuaging some of Marc’s fears.

  “We’ve already established George and Hank are like chalk and cheese. You sure that isn’t the attraction here?”

  She stood and turned away, the scraping of the chair legs against the wooden floor the only sound in the room for what seemed like an eternity.

  “Mom?”

  As he reached out to her, she whirled around, the steely glint in her eye signaling her determination. He’d only seen that look a few times, usually when she’d been organizing some charity benefit and things weren’t going according to plan. This time he was the one throwing a bug in the floral arrangement and was about to cop a mouthful for his troubles.

  “I’m only going to say this once. You’re smart and I have nothing but admiration for what you’ve achieved despite your upbringing.”

  She held her hand up, as if expecting him to interrupt. “I know I wasn’t the world’s greatest mom and I’m sorry for what you had to witness between your father and me but all that’s in the past. You survived it, I survived it. I’ve wised up, worked through my issues and moved on. All I’m asking is for you to have faith in my decision-making capabilities and treat me like an intelligent woman, not some lovesick teenager who doesn’t know a dependent crush from the real thing. Think you can do that?”

  Hell. He’d never seen her so wound up, even after George’s infamous vase throwing incident. Time to retreat. Fast.

  He stood and folded her into his arms, dropping a peck on the top of her head.

  “For you, anything.”

  She pulled away, looked up at him, the sheen in her eyes slugging him in the gut all over again.

  “You’d think I’d be put off marriage for life after what George put me through but that’s just it. We didn’t have a real marriage, nothing remotely like it. What I have with Hank is right. We’re meant to be together.”

  What could he say? She sat and refilled her cup while he shook his head at the offer of a top up.

  “Now we�
��ve got a few things straight, tell me about LA.”

  “Hasn’t changed much since you were last there. Smoggy, busy, chaotic. The usual.”

  He bit back a grin. His mom couldn’t have been too upset by their confrontational chat if she honed in on the one topic guaranteed to hold her enthralled: his love life. Or lack of one as she usually berated him with.

  Taking a sip of tea, she feigned nonchalance. “Did Sierra enjoy her shopping?”

  “Loads of bags by the end of the day so I guess so.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She appeared uncomfortable for all of two seconds before plowing on. “She’s nice. Do you like her?”

  He couldn’t keep a straight face any longer and burst into laughter. “I’m not in grade school any more.”

  “You can’t blame me for trying. Not that you ever told me anything about your girlfriends back then either.”

  She waggled a finger at him, making him feel like a naughty schoolboy. “If you think you’ve got free reign to discuss my relationship, expect the same treatment, sonny.”

  “We don’t have a relationship,” he said, the image of Sierra’s wide blue eyes begging him to prove otherwise as he’d kissed her goodnight yesterday.

  He’d almost lost it up on that mountain top and if it hadn’t been for the untimely intrusion of those kids he knew his famed self control would’ve been shattered by a woman who tempted him with every breath.

  “Fair enough. How thing’s are working out at Flo’s?”

  His mom dropped the subject when he’d expected an interrogation, another oddity in this unusual morning of probing questions and shared confidences.

  We don’t have a relationship.

  The denial echoed. Attraction was one thing, getting involved emotionally another.

  Involvement beyond anything casual could only lead to one thing.

  Trouble.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Cupid’s Dating Tips for the Enlightened Male

  Women equate men with mascara. Both run at the first sign of emotion. Prove them wrong.

  Hank strolled down the riverbank to his favorite spot, stuck his rod in the sand, dumped the cooler and perched on a rock worn flat by his butt over the last twenty years.

  He twisted the top off a Bud and took a long slug, content to watch dragonflies dance across the water’s surface, the tranquility never failing to soothe him.

  When Hannah died he’d spent countless hours here, contemplating a world gone mad when the woman he adored could be taken so cruelly, ravaged by a disease that left him helpless with rage.

  Ovarian cancer, a malicious, relentless, silent killer that had stalked his beautiful, sweet, thirty-five year old wife, preyed on her, shadowed her for eight months before ripping her out of his arms and leaving him devastated at forty, his life in tatters.

  He’d grieved for years, throwing himself into work, obliterating the driving need to lash out at anything, anyone.

  Sierra had helped, bowling into his life just after he’d lost Hannah, a fiery ten year old with a tough veneer hiding a marshmallow heart. They’d bonded and while she’d helped ease his grief, nothing had stopped the constant pain gnawing at his heart, widening the gaping hole left by Hannah’s death.

  He’d thought he could never love anyone as much as he’d loved Hannah.

  He’d been wrong.

  For the life of him he couldn’t figure out what had prompted Sierra to plug his personals into that meddlesome computer of hers but whatever her reasoning, he’d silently thanked her every day since.

  When Olivia Fairley first contacted him he’d thought he was the brunt of an elaborate joke. He’d been using a computer for years to keep track of his business and could usually identify a dud email when he saw one. Yet something about Liv’s words had captured his attention and he’d re-read her email several times before replying, keeping his response coolly polite.

  If she was a crackpot, no harm done. If she was genuine in her wishes to meet a new friend, someone who enjoyed classical music, watching old movies and a good cup of tea, well…a woman like that sounded perfect in his estimation.

  Lucky for him Liv hadn’t been crazy; unless he counted how she felt about him. What a classy woman like her saw in his sorry ass he’d never know but he thanked the Lord every day for bringing her into his empty life.

  He loved her sense of humor, her gentle teasing, her radiant smiles which took some coaxing, but when they arrived it was like the sun rising over Mount Eros in a burst of vibrant, dazzling color he couldn’t help but admire.

  He loved her resilience, the fact she’d survived a horrific marriage yet believed in him enough to have another go.

  He loved her passion, her eager responses when he touched her, the pleasure she brought to every union.

  But most of all, he loved her for the way she looked at him, with open admiration and a blinding love that made him feel like a superhero.

  Simply, Liv completed him. In so many ways he’d never imagined.

  “Caught anything yet?”

  Hank held up a hand to Marc in greeting and gestured at the empty rock beside him. “Apart from a cold?”

  Marc laughed, surprisingly at ease for their first man-to-man bonding session. “Poor Mom, having to live with that sense of humor every day.”

  “She loves me.”

  Hank’s shrug, part embarrassment, part wonderment, softened the defensive edge in his tone.

  He expected Marc to push, to badger, to pry into matters that didn’t concern him, and almost fell off his rock when the young man merely nodded, sat and stared across the river.

  “You come here often?”

  “That one of your tried and true LA pick-up lines?” Hank chuckled and nudged the cooler toward him. “Because I’ll give you a tip, son, I doubt that’ll work here.”

  Marc grinned, grabbed a beer and knocked the top off before raising it in his direction. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Sierra won’t tolerate corny crap like that either. She’ll give it to you straight.”

  Marc maintained eye contact and Hank liked the fact the young man wasn’t one of those evasive types who couldn’t look a man in the eye.

  “So I’ve noticed.” Marc paused, chugged his beer, before a flicker of unease clouded his eyes. “You two close?”

  Hank nodded. “Met her as a youngster twenty years ago, after my wife died. She helped me through a rough time.”

  The smile softening Marc’s uncompromising mouth, his face relaxing into pensiveness, had Hank biting back a grin. If Liv’s son had a thing for Sierra, he wouldn’t know what hit him.

  “Were you married long?”

  Hank stiffened, not wanting to discuss Hannah with a man he barely knew. But this was Liv’s son, openly opposed to their marriage. Maybe a dose of the truth would set his mind at ease?

  “Eight years.”

  “No kids?”

  “We waited too long…” Hank shook his head, the sliver of regret lodged in his heart niggling like a nasty splinter.

  Hannah had wanted kids, he’d wanted to wait, citing the growing business as a legitimate excuse. But deep down he’d been scared, downright terrified of changing the status quo, had seen what kids had done to his friends’ marriages.

  By the time he’d woken up and changed his mind it had been too late.

  “Sorry to pry. It’s just that—”

  “You’re concerned for your mother. I get it. I would be too after what she’s been through.”

  Marc’s eyes widened in surprise but he didn’t speak, stared into his beer instead.

  “You and me, we’re only getting acquainted and there’s a long road ahead but know this, sonny. I’m nothing like your father and I’ll do everything in my power to make Liv happy.”

  Marc held his gaze, studying him, before nodding. “If you don’t, you’ll have to deal with me.”

  Hank admired the young man’s gutsiness. “Fair enough. Now, why don’t we drink to you
r mom?”

  He held up his bottle and after a moment’s hesitation Marc clinked it with his.

  “To Mom.”

  “To Liv.”

  They drank in silence and when Hank finished his beer he picked up his rod, weighing it carefully to assess the exact amount of line to cast out.

  “Has there been much talk about Sierra and me?”

  Hank cast out. “Pardon my bluntness, but a man can’t fart around here without someone running behind to fan it.”

  Marc laughed so loud a flock of geese took flight.

  “Why? Something bothering you?”

  “Yeah.” Marc leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees, the Bud dangling from his fingertips, his shuttered expression hiding his innermost thoughts.

  Doubting Marc would confide in him, Hank said, “I’m a good listener.”

  Marc grunted and Hank didn’t push, rummaging in the cooler for another beer, offering one to the young man who shook his head.

  If Marc didn’t want to talk, fine. The peace of the river would placate whatever demons were hounding him.

  “You ever faced a dilemma?”

  Secretly pleased at how well the bonding session was going, Hank nodded. “What kind of dilemma you talking about?”

  “Work versus…other stuff.”

  Ah…so that’s how it was. This thing with Sierra had moved beyond interest and was eating away at the guy who was a workaholic according to Liv.

  Battles of the heart; fazed them all.

  Hank chose his words carefully as he picked up the rod, enjoying the familiarity of it in his hands. “Sounds tough. What are you going to do?”

  “Damned if I know.”

  Ironic. He’d come here doubting Marc, especially after what Eric Grayson had said on the phone earlier. Eric had been hired to do a full background check and Hank knew digging into his personal business was the sign of a man desperate to find something, anything, he could use against him.

  He’d thought Marc taking a week off from his beloved job to spend time with his mom had been too good to be true and now Hank knew the real reason behind Marc’s extended stay. Not that it bothered him. He’d planned on telling Liv the whole truth soon anyway; Marc’s nosiness brought the date forward.