Married by Monday (The Weekday Brides #2)(20)
Author: Catherine Bybee

Chapter Nine

After a grueling workout full of kicks and punches Eliza forgot she knew how to throw, she managed to clear her mind enough to concentrate on only the objective facts of her life.

Her mother and father had died nearly twenty years ago. Although she did resemble her mom in many ways, the chances of anyone finding out her true identity tilted the scale from slim to none. Yet Jim and Dean seemed more worried than they had reason to be. That begged more investigation.

Eliza had been told never to whisper an ounce of truth about her life, or she stood the risk of putting others in danger. She was certain the cops meant the average Joe with minimal resources for security.

Lucky for her, her Christmas card list was packed full of wealthy, influential individuals who had security details at their disposal. Much better than any state paid employee carrying a badge had available to their families. Lord knew that the cops often put their own families at risk when they busted big names in crime. That didn’t stop them from doing their jobs, and she sure as heck wasn’t going to walk away from the life she’d built for herself.

Then there was Carter. Her stomach pitched thinking of his touch. He took his time and seduced her fully. Looking back she wasn’t sure why she’d let him. She’d been vulnerable, not in a normal state of mind. She supposed he knew that on some level and didn’t push her for more.

She wouldn’t forget his mind-blowing kisses and her explosive response to him any time soon.

The last thing he needed was a temporary girlfriend to tarnish his reputation while running for office. Their short trip on lover’s lane would have to be a standalone affair.

Too bad. She wouldn’t mind exploring his other obvious bedroom talents. Maybe in five years, after the election and his term in office. That was, of course, if he didn’t pursue a wife during that time. Eliza wasn’t about to be the “other woman.”

Eliza pulled down the busy two-lane road en route to Samantha and Blake’s home in Malibu. No one appeared to be following her, and the road in front was congested with summer traffic.

Telling Gwen about the risk of moving in with her was a must. Chances were the British born lady wouldn’t risk the move no matter how much she craved adventure. Although in a weird way, Eliza would enjoy the other woman’s company. Running interference if Carter knocked on the door wouldn’t suck either.

He’d left a short message on her cell phone telling her that he’d thought about her. Then he went on to say he needed to fly to D.C. for a couple of days. She didn’t want to be disappointed, but she was. One minute she wanted to see him, the next she didn’t. Dating in high school wasn’t this confusing.

Eliza pulled up to the Harrison estate and buzzed the gate, all the while smiling at the camera pointed at her car. The slow hum of the motor opened the long levers and pulled the massive steel open wide enough for her car to pass. Once the gates closed, she continued up the drive.

Mary, Samantha and Blake’s cook, met her at the door. “Samantha is putting Eddie down, she’ll be with you in a minute,” the older woman said.

Eliza stepped into the grand foyer and set her purse and keys on a table. “Thanks, Mary.”

“Do you want to wait in the kitchen or the den?”

Usually Eliza would have joined Mary in the kitchen, but considering the sensitive nature of the pending conversation with Samantha, she thought it best to hide. “The den if you don’t mind.”

A wave of uncertainty crossed Mary’s features, but she didn’t say a thing. “Of course. I’ll bring coffee.”

“That would be great.”

They both walked down the hall, but Eliza veered off to the main gathering room in the house. They had a formal living room but, like most homes in America, it was only used during the holidays and special occasions. The Harrison home should have felt cold and uninviting because of its sheer size. It wasn’t.

In the corner of the den was a big plastic chest filled with Eddie’s toys. Several board books with tiny teeth marks covered the coffee table and at least one unidentified stain was smack dab in the middle of the sofa.

Yep, even with all the money in the world a two-year-old ruled the house.

Eliza sat on the couch and leaned back. Instantly a squeak sounded from behind her. She reached around and found a plush toy with an internal noisemaker.

She laughed. Lord these things must drive the adults crazy after a day. Samantha had told her more than once to avoid noisy toys as gifts.

Eliza stuck to the rules her best friend laid out, and Carter would always bring the biggest and noisiest toy. That past Christmas, Eddie responded to Carter’s gift with glee. Even with a short attention span, the little guy played with One Man Band playground for nearly an hour. It still took up a coveted spot in the child’s room.

Eliza made a mental note to find an interactive noisemaker for the next holiday.

She picked up a Dr. Seuss classic and thumbed through the pages.

Footsteps sounded in the hall before Samantha strolled into the room. “I thought he’d never go down.”

Eliza tossed the child’s book aside and smiled at her friend. “Naps are so boring,” she teased.

“I don’t know about that. I’d love a nap.” Sam picked up a few scattered toys and tossed them into the toy box.

“You don’t have to clean up for me.”

“I’m cleaning up for me,” Sam said. “There’s an amazing home under all of this, and the only time I see it is when he’s sleeping.”

Eliza gazed around the room. The house was brilliant even with bright primary colors scattered about. Some of the breakables had been relocated to the top shelves or removed from the room altogether, but the Malibu mansion was fit for a duke, duchess, and a toddling little earl.

Samantha fussed with the room’s mess for a minute or two before Mary returned with coffee and homemade cookies. Once Mary left, they talked about chocolate chip cookies, two-year-olds, and how far the kids could make the mess spread, before Sam finally sat down. “So…” Sam leaned forward, took a deep breath. “You’re not here to talk about cookies.”

Eliza sat the coffee down. Her palms felt damp. “No. My plan was to come here and say goodbye.”

“What?” Sam shouted.

“Was…as in I’m not leaving.”

Sam placed a hand over her chest and sat back. “Don’t do that.”

“Sorry. I’m…this is hard. You keep some secrets so long that saying them out loud breathes new life into old haunts.”