The Ex Upstairs by Maureen Child
Five
“What the hell?” Bennett jumped to his feet and spun around to face the man.
Amanda took a breath and held it.
“Keep your voice down,” Candace ordered as she, too, stood.
Down below, Jackie Carson was surrounded by her family hugging and laughing together, celebrating a magnificent audition. Here...the family situation was a little different. But just as inescapable.
Amanda gritted her teeth and stood up. She braced herself before turning to look at the man who continued to haunt her life. She’d seen him only a few hours ago and here he was again. Henry was wearing a beautiful black suit with a dark blue shirt and a black tie. His too-long black hair curled over his collar and his green eyes seemed almost to glow in the dim lighting.
He looked both elegant and dangerous, and a curl of fire swept into life inside her. His eyes were locked on hers, as if the rest of the world had slipped away into nothingness. Tension spiked and she could acknowledge, at least silently, that her tension wasn’t coming from anger.
Bennett was practically humming with banked fury and Candace, true to her kind nature, emanated a sort of calm acceptance. Amanda was somewhere in between with a whole lot of lust wrapped up in it, too.
“Henry,” Candace said, holding out her right hand. “It’s good to see you.”
“Is it?” Bennett demanded, turning a stunned expression on his mother.
“Mrs. Carey.” Henry ignored his old friend, shook Candace’s hand and gave her what looked like a grateful smile.
His gaze shifted once more to Amanda’s and she wondered what he was thinking because his eyes flashed with...something she couldn’t read.
“Exactly why are you here?”
Henry looked briefly at Bennett, before turning back to Amanda. The heat in his eyes made her want to squirm, so she kept deliberately still. It wasn’t easy.
Though he answered Bennett, he was looking only at Amanda when he said, “Your website claimed the auditions were open.” He shrugged and glanced around the concert hall. “Not many people taking you up on the invitation, are they?”
Bennett stiffened, clearly insulted. “They will. This is just the first one.”
“Which is why I came,” Henry said. “Mostly.”
His gaze was still fixed on Amanda, and Bennett didn’t miss it. “Yeah, well, audition’s over so maybe you should go.”
“You’ll have to excuse my son,” Candace spoke up again. “I gave his father too much room in raising him.”
“Seriously?” Bennett asked. “You’re taking his side in this?”
“There is no ‘side,’ Bennett. And holding on to anger for ten years is just ridiculous. Along with exhausting.”
Henry nodded at her, but Amanda wanted to point out that Henry was as guilty of that as the Careys. Still, she was surprised by her mother’s reaction. No one in the family really talked about what had happened ten years before and Amanda had always been grateful for that. But at the same time, she’d been oblivious to the fact that it seemed only she and Bennett were still harboring anger over it.
Interesting.
“Martin and I were supposed to be in Palm Springs this week,” Candace said.
“Mom...” Bennett’s chin dropped to his chest.
She ignored Bennett and took a quick look over her shoulder at the young woman and her family before turning back to say, “But I have to admit, I’m glad I was here to see our first contestant in person.” She looked at Bennett. “Don’t tell your father I said that.”
“Don’t put me in the middle of the war,” Bennett countered.
Too late for that,Amanda thought. All of the Carey kids were in the middle. Well, except for Justin, who had the good sense to spend most of his time out of range. But she focused on the conversation again when her mother looked to Henry.
“What did you think of our first amateur performer?” Candace asked.
He smiled and said easily, “She was amazing. I think you’re going to really have something special with this contest.”
Amanda blinked. This had been her idea. Her baby, so to speak, and having Henry applaud it gave her a small rush that she really didn’t want to think about.
“I think so, too,” Candace said, then dropped one arm around her daughter’s shoulders and gave her a brief hug. “It was Amanda’s idea, you know.”
“Is that right?” Appreciation shone in his eyes and that little rush Amanda felt gleamed brighter. “Well, it was a brilliant move.”
“Thanks.” Why was he being nice? And why did she care what he thought of her? Heck, yesterday she’d been ready to pummel him for thwarting her plan and here she was now, basking in his appreciation? Made no sense whatsoever and yet...
“Why not invite him to the house for a drink?” Bennett muttered.
“You’ve done well for yourself, Henry. Congratulations,” Candace said, ignoring her son’s blustering.
“Well, hell, Mom, why don’t we throw him a party?”
Amanda nudged Bennett and got a dirty look for her trouble.
Henry grinned, then said, “Thank you, Mrs. Carey. That means a lot.”
“I bet it does,” Bennett grumbled.
“Bennett,” his mother said, “I love you dearly, but you’re being tiresome.”
Bennett threw both hands up, and glanced at Henry in time to see a small smile. Amanda could have sworn she’d almost glimpsed a matching one on her brother’s face. But that had to be a mistake.
“Henry, if you want to come to the auditions, we can’t stop you,” Amanda said, keeping her voice far steadier than she was feeling.
“Agreed,” he said with a smile.
“I just don’t understand why you want to be here.”
He shrugged again and the carefree move really seemed to bother Bennett. Probably why he did it. “Since I’m moving to Irvine, I thought I’d get acquainted with the center. I’ll probably be spending a lot of time here.”
“You’re moving—” Bennett broke off midsentence. “Why here?”
“Why not?” Henry countered.
“Never pictured you as one to enjoy opera.”
Henry smiled. “Good to expand your horizons, Bennett. You should try it.”
Candace’s lips twitched and Amanda wondered if the real reason Henry had come was just to give her brother a hard time. Then Henry’s gaze shifted back to her and she rethought that. He’d come to see her. Why? Had he figured out that she was the maid, Amelia? If he had, he wasn’t showing it or, thank God, mentioning it.
A taut silence strung out then until it was broken by Martin Carey’s shout. “There you are!” He hurried down the center aisle, focusing his attention on his wife, who merely glanced at him.
“You’re late,” Candace said. “You missed the performance.”
“I had a call—”
“Of course you did.” Candace nodded at Henry, then gave Amanda a one-armed hug and blew a kiss to Bennett. “Well, I have to be going. Amanda, sweetie, that was a wonderful start to your contest. Congratulations.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Martin brushed past his children to follow Candace and screeched to a stop when he noticed Henry. “Porter? What are you doing here?”
“We’ve already covered that, Mr. Carey,” Henry said amiably. “You can ask your wife.”
“My wife—” Martin seemed to suddenly remember that he should be going after Candace. He gave Henry another questioning stare, then hurried after the woman who was almost to the exit already.
Amanda watched him go and wished Bennett would go, as well. But it was as if her brother was rooted to the spot. He and Henry were having a staring contest now and neither of them was going to give in. It was up to her to call an end to it. “Bennett, would you go and remind the cameramen to get the audition recording to Clark in tech as soon as possible?”
“They know that,” he muttered, still glaring at Henry.
“Please,” she said and gave him an imploring look when he turned his gaze on her.
“Fine.” He stepped out into the aisle, but paused for another shot at Henry. “But I won’t be far. And, we’re not done, you know.”
“Going on ten years now,” Henry pointed out. “I’m aware.”
Grumbling under his breath, Bennett stalked up the aisle and Henry gave him a big smile as he went. Turning back to Amanda, he asked, “So is he afraid I’m going to rip your clothes off and toss you on the floor?”
Whoa. Her body responded to that even while her brain was reminding her that was pretty much what had happened ten years ago.
“He knows that’s not going to happen,” she said with a lot more surety than she was feeling at the moment.
“Could be interesting,” he said.
“Could be a disaster. Like before.”
His smile faded. “Ended as a disaster,” he said. “Didn’t start out that way.”
No, it hadn’t. And if she allowed herself to, she could bring back every moment of that night with Henry. How her heart had raced, her body humming beneath his, the feel of his hands on her skin and the taste of him filling her. Yep, every minute. So she didn’t let herself remember.
When Bennett was far enough away that he wouldn’t overhear her, she said, “Henry, why make things harder?”
He shrugged. “Hey, Bennett’s the one looking for trouble. I just came to see the audition.”
“You could have seen it on the website,” she pointed out. “It will be up within the hour.”
“Not the same,” he said and glanced up and around at the interior of the center. “You were here.”
“You haven’t dropped in to see me at any time before tonight. What’s different?”
He shrugged and every muscle in his chest rippled beneath that dark shirt. “Maybe I just thought it was time.”
“Uh-huh. Time for what, exactly?”
“Interesting question, isn’t it?” He smiled at her and her stomach did a slow roll and spin, then he started talking again. “I haven’t been here in a long time. It’s an amazing place,” he admitted, almost reluctantly. Turning his gaze back to her, he said, “Beautiful.”
He wasn’t talking about the center now and that thread of heat inside her seemed to spread in reaction to the gleam in his eyes as much as his words. “Henry, nothing’s changed. You moving closer won’t change things.”
“Who’s trying to change anything?” He brushed the sides of his jacket back and tucked both hands into his pockets. “But like your mother said, ten years of warfare is ridiculous.”
She didn’t believe that for a minute. If he believed that, he wouldn’t have swooped in and bought the hall that Amanda had wanted. He’d done it to make a point. That the war was still raging. “And one sentence from my mom is enough to make you change your mind?”
He only smiled. Irritating.
“So you’re a big fan of the Carey family now? Is that it?”
“Some of them,” he admitted. “Your mom for one. I always liked Candace.”
Hard to argue with that. Her mother really was the best, so she could hardly blame him for being fond of her. And as she thought about it, she remembered how her mother had always welcomed Henry as if he were another of her children. Knowing what she knew now about the loss of his own mother made her realize how much he must have appreciated that.
But that still didn’t change what he’d been doing for years. What he’d just done to her and her plans.
“My mom brought you here.”
“No, you did,” he admitted.
“Why?”
“Still working that out.” And he didn’t look happy about it.
“Henry, what is it you want?”
“Satisfaction,” he said quickly. “What about you, Mandy? What do you want?”
His use of her nickname unlocked secret places in her heart and she really wished they’d remained closed off. She didn’t want to remember the other Henry. The man she’d loved and lost ten years ago. The man she’d pinned hopes and dreams on only to watch them all disappear when he did.
What did she want? To prove herself to her family. To dream without the longing that still dogged her. To find the kind of joy she’d once had when she’d believed Henry loved her.
All of that and more.
But she didn’t tell him that. Instead she said only, “I’ll let you know. Right now, I have to go and congratulate our first contestant. I’m assuming you can find your own way out.”
One corner of his mouth tipped into a half smile and she wished she didn’t find that expression so...tempting.
Amanda steeled herself against her own feelings and left him standing there to walk down the aisle toward the stage. She plastered a bright smile on her face for Jackie Carson’s benefit and tried not to feel Henry’s gaze on her as surely as she would have a touch.
It didn’t work. But she tried.
Henry didn’t have to worry about a damn thing.
The movers swept in the following morning and took everything that was going with him to the new house in Irvine. The rest—the antiques and what he thought of as his mother’s favorite “girlie” furniture would be stored. He didn’t want to use it, but hadn’t been able to bring himself to get rid of it, either. So he would tuck it away where he didn’t have to think about it.
Which, he had to admit, was exactly how he had treated memories of Amanda.
She’d been pushed into a corner of his mind where she couldn’t easily torture him. Yet still, she managed to sneak out when he least expected it to dance in his mind with a torturous regularity he hadn’t been able to defeat.
Seeing her last night had hit him harder than he’d expected it would. The image of her rose up in his mind and he took a second just to enjoy the memory. Her hair had been long and loose and she’d worn a sapphire-blue dress with a scooped neckline, long sleeves and a skirt that looked as if it would swirl around her legs with every movement. It wasn’t particularly sexy, yet, clinging to that body of hers, it had radiated sex.
Hell, he’d gone to the center only to shake her a little. He hadn’t thought it would do the same to him. Still, he was glad he’d gone because having Candace Carey treat him as she had before everything had blown up that long-ago summer had been...good. Hell, great. And Bennett had hated it, so that was a plus.
Henry walked through the new house, avoiding movers and Martha and her crew. Henry had spent a couple of hours at the new office, making sure Donna and the movers had the situation in hand, then he’d driven home, really appreciating that it was a five-mile commute on city streets. He watched as movers shuffled in furniture and mountains of boxes and was grateful he didn’t have to deal with anything but his own study.
Heading upstairs, he planned to go up on the roof. Get some air, enjoy that incredible view and get out of the way of the dozens of people trooping through his house. He caught Amanda’s scent and frowned to himself. In disguise or not, she was imprinting herself on his place and it was going to make it even harder to ignore her. He knew that long after she’d gone, he would be remembering that scent and he would picture her here, in his home. He would be tasting that memory, dragging it into his lungs and filling him with mental images that would torment him. No way to avoid it, either.
Even if she left his house today, he would know she’d been there. And he would see her. In every damn room. That stupid disguise of hers—did she really think he could be fooled by it? Didn’t matter a damn. He knew who she was. Could see beneath that black wig and faux glasses. And his mind did the rest for him, showing him Amanda as she really was, with her long, honey-blond hair and bright blue eyes that saw more than she should and gave away little.
She hadn’t always been so guarded. He remembered those eyes being open and alive with laughter and shining with a love that was as young as she. But somewhere along the line, she’d put up walls between herself and the rest of the world. Was it after the boathouse? Or was she a part of setting up that scene as he’d long believed?
He didn’t know. But it didn’t really matter, either. He didn’t trust people easily now because he’d learned early on just how devastating it could be to have that trust turn and bite you in the ass.
Henry pushed her out of his mind and took the wide stairs at a jog. He wanted his laptop and a good furniture website. The rooms in this house were expansive and had a sort of flow to them that gave an open feeling from the moment you came through the front door. It felt even more expansive with so little furniture in it. Hell, it practically echoed.
Pausing at the landing, he looked down at the wide hallway and the open great room that spilled off it. Spanish style, this house was as far from the Beverly Hills Tudor as he could get and Henry admitted silently that he much preferred this style of home. Red tile lined the hallway, but the rooms arrowing off the hall boasted wide-plank oak floors. There were so many windows, it was as if the outdoors was inside.
The house itself was built in an open square with a center patio that was accessible from every room on the ground floor. He turned to glance at the empty loft at the head of the curved, wide staircase and the two halls that stretched from that space, offering access to both wings of the house. Watching the parade of movers below, he thought that Martha, showing them the way, was like a drum major at the head of a marching band. Smiling to himself, he walked down the hall to the master and stepped inside only to be stopped at the sight of Amanda, bent in half over his king-size bed, putting fresh sheets on the mattress.
So much for avoiding her.
His gaze locked on the curve of her butt and as she reached out, smoothing sheets, the pull of her shirt against her breasts. His hands itched to touch her again. It had been ten years, since the last time he’d been with her, but damned if he didn’t remember the soft slide of her skin beneath his palms. He hated that wig she wore and wanted instead to see her long blond hair slipping over her shoulders again.
“Stupid bed,” she muttered and crawled onto the mattress to tug at the sheets, wrinkling them beneath her knees as she went.
He almost laughed. How had she thought she could pretend to be a maid? Since it was clear to him she had never changed her own sheets.
“Having trouble?” he asked.
She went completely still on her hands and knees and slowly swiveled her head to look at him. Henry’s body went hard as stone in a blink. His casual pose, leaning one shoulder against the doorjamb, belied the tension inside him.
Amanda, on all fours. On his bed. Looking back at him over her shoulder. Oh, yeah. His brain completed the fantasy, stripping her clothes off, providing moonlight rather than the bright sun pouring through the French doors leading to a wide balcony and that long blond hair of hers that he wanted to thread his fingers through. Then the illusion dissolved as she gave a startled yelp and shimmied back off the bed.
“You surprised me.”
“Same,” he said, pushing off the doorway and strolling casually into the room. He wasn’t feeling casual, though, and Henry told himself that of the two of them, he was by far the better actor. Hell, it was a wonder he could walk at the moment.
“Martha asked me to make up your bed and I was just—”
“Calling the bed names?”
Her lips thinned out and her eyes narrowed. “How long were you standing there?”
“Long enough to enjoy the show.”
Pushing those ridiculous glasses back up her nose when they slid down, she took a quick, sharp breath and frowned at him. “Once I get the bed made, I’ll be out of your way.”
“You’re not in my way,” he said, walking across the huge room. He took it all in with a glance. Wide-screen TV over a kiva-style fireplace, dresser and chest along one wall and two overstuffed chairs drawn up in front of a now cold hearth. The French doors opened onto the balcony that had drawn him from the first time he’d seen the house. He could see the ocean through those doors, though it was too far away for him to be lulled by the slap and pound of the waves. He needed furniture out there, too, he supposed and told himself to get his laptop and start shopping. Walk away from Amanda. Stop putting himself through the pain of want.
“It’s a beautiful house,” Amanda said, catching his attention so that he turned to look at her.
“Thanks. I think so.”
“You’ll need some chairs on that balcony, though, if you really want to enjoy the view.”
“I was just thinking that,” he admitted.
“You have the internet, don’t you?”
He drew his head back and gave her a grin. “Yeah, I do. Came upstairs to get my laptop and get started on that.”
“You should get a chaise or two, along with the chairs and a table. You have plenty of room.”
He looked back at the balcony and thought she had a point. Hell, he could almost see it. “Not a bad idea.”
“It’s been known to happen,” she mused, then picked up the top sheet and started unfolding it.
“Let me help you with that,” he said abruptly, surprising both of them.
“That’s not necessary,” she argued.
“If it was, I probably wouldn’t have offered,” he admitted. Walking to the bed, he took one edge of the dark blue sheet and helped Amanda shake it open enough to drop over the mattress.
She looked nervous and he was glad to see it. He liked having her on edge around him. Let him know she wasn’t as unaffected as she pretended to be.
She pulled the sheet down, tucked in the bottom edge and then watched as he pulled it free a bit.
“Don’t like my sheets tied down,” he said with a shrug.
“Okay.” Turning, she lifted the forest green duvet off a nearby chair and swung it out to come down over the mattress like a parachute. “You know, I can do the rest by myself if there’s something you should be doing...”
“Trying to get rid of me?”
“It’s your house,” she reminded him.
“True, but it’s full of strangers at the moment.”
“We’ll all be gone soon enough,” she said and slipped first one, then another pillow into the cases. Plumping them, she set them against the heavy, dark wood headboard, then grabbed a half-dozen other throw pillows and tossed them onto the bed, as well. When she was finished, Henry waited for her to turn to face him.
“Eager to be done with the job and get out, is that it?”
“It’s a temporary job, Mr. Porter,” she said and moved toward the master bath. “Once we have you settled, my work is done.”
When she said it, Henry realized he didn’t want her job to be over. He wanted her there. In his house. Ideally, in his bed.
He glanced at the freshly made sheets and that’s when he noticed that the bedside table drawer was partially open. He glanced back at the adjoining bath, then walked to the table. He opened the drawer, saw that the few things he kept there had been rifled, but whatever she was here looking for, she hadn’t found it in that drawer. He looked down at the box of condoms, chuckled and told himself that at least she knew he was ready to roll.
Walking back to the bathroom, he watched as she unpacked a box of towels, then stacked them neatly on the shelves. “So what do you do when you’re not a temporary maid?”
She looked back at him. “I, um, work in the family business.”
“Is that right?” Smiling to himself, he folded his arms over his chest and asked, “What kind of business?”
“Oh,” she hedged, “a little of this, a little of that, really. We’re very diversified.”
You could say that again, he thought. The Careys had a hand in a million different pies, much as he did. But their main focus was the center, real estate holdings and the five-star restaurant they owned in Laguna.
“Diversified, huh? What part do you work on?” He was trying to trip her up. Since she wasn’t much of an actress, he hoped she might accidentally spill something she didn’t want to.
“That depends, really. Wherever I’m needed, I guess.”
“That’s vague enough,” he said.
She looked back at him. “Are you writing a book?”
“If I were,” he said with a quick grin, “I’d need more information.”
“And a more interesting subject.” She finished with the towels, picked up the empty box and turned toward him.
“Oh, I’m interested.” Henry smiled when he saw the flash of nerves in her eyes.
This day just kept getting better.