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Addie hesitated.

“No,” Rose replied, speaking for her daughter as she pulled one of her ever-present lists from her pocket. “I keep telling her she needs to do that so we can reserve the church and get invitations ordered.”

“You just said they should elope.”

“Well, they need to do one or the other. It’s not good to leave something like this hanging. Long engagements aren’t necessary.”

Olivia folded her circle of dough in two and expertly slipped it into a glass pie plate. “Are you waiting until after you graduate?”

Addie opened her mouth.

“I certainly hope not,” Rose insisted, before Addie could say a word. “That would be over a year and a half from now. She’d be graduating sooner if she hadn’t taken those extra courses Gabe talked her into,” she murmured, disapproval in her tone. “What’s an elementary school teacher going to do with botany classes, anyway?”

“They did help her discover that old garden outside of town,” Olivia reminded her.

“Well, that’s taking up her time, too. She could be using the effort she’s putting into that, into planning her wedding.”

While Olivia helpfully pointed out that Addie could probably do both, and the women proceeded to debate the financial merits of eloping rather than having a wedding, Addie diligently forced her attention to the stems she carefully arranged in the bright vase.

Losing herself in the simple beauty of the flowers, appreciating the colors, textures and pretty shapes, appealed far more to her than considering how little her own opinion mattered when it came to deciding her future. The cook and her mom talked as if she weren’t even there, as if she were as invisible to them as she was expected to make herself as she went about her daily chores.

Being invisible was familiar. So was her mom’s criticism and the guilt Addie always felt when her mom found fault with the choices she’d made. Both of her parents had wanted more for her than to tend someone else’s home and land. Addie’s dad had insisted on college. But her mom had never thought that four years of college was necessary. She’d considered secretarial school more practical because Addie could have a career and leave the estate that much sooner.

Addie had never felt any great need to leave the sprawling grounds. She loved working with the plants and the land and she had far more freedom being outdoors than her mother did working inside. But she hadn’t wanted to disappoint either of her parents, so she had decided that she would teach because she herself loved to learn. And, being practical, there would always be a need for teachers.

Her mother had ultimately, grudgingly, been satisfied with that. But she had also made it clear that she thought the extra classes Addie had taken last winter a waste of time and money. Addie had loved the botany courses, but they couldn’t be used toward her major, and taking them had kept her from taking classes that could. Her mom had thought Gabe quite cavalier for suggesting them, too, because people like the Kendricks could afford to indulge casual interests, but people like them definitely could not.

Addie swallowed past the familiar sense of defeat tightening her chest. Her mom had always insisted that setting one’s sights too high resulted only in disappointment, and she wanted badly to save her from that.

Addie knew her mom meant well. But it was so hard to work for something when someone was always pulling back on your leash. She couldn’t count the times her mom had remarked on how long it was taking her to get her degree. Because she needed her job to afford school, she worked full-time from spring through mid-December and attended college in Petersburg, seventy miles away, during winter term. A term a year was not exactly a land speed record.

Her mom also made a point of occasionally mentioning that she could have had an office job by now, and that at the rate she was going, she might not ever graduate. Considering that she would then have no degree and no training, she’d have no choice but to spend the rest of her life as the Kendricks’ groundskeeper, a fate of which her mother definitely did not approve.

At least with her engagement, the possibility of living on the estate and serving the Kendricks for the rest of her life had been eliminated. Now, her mother’s focus was simply on getting her married.

The way her mother kept pushing, it was almost as if she was afraid Scott would back out on Addie if she didn’t commit to a date soon. When her mother had said before that a long engagement wasn’t necessary, what she’d really meant was that a long engagement could be broken.

He has a good job, she reminded her at every opportunity. And he’s good to you. That’s as good as it gets, Addie. A man like that won’t wait around forever.

It had done Addie no good to point out that her mom would have to move to the main house once Addie quit her job there. Her mom had said that after so long she was ready to move, anyway. The cottage wasn’t the same without Tom, and she’d be closer to her work.

Before her mom could start in on any of her arguments again, Addie turned with the artfully arranged bouquet, set it on the table where the servants ate and grabbed the towels.

“Tell me where these go and what else you want me to do.”

Oblivious to the impact of her comments, Rose headed for the cabinet-and drawer-lined hall between the kitchen and the laundry.

“You can take those up to Marie in the family wing,” she continued while Olivia walked over to stick her nose into the blooms. “She’s trying to make some order out of the bedrooms. I’ll do the same in the guest wing after I help Ina down here.”

Pulling out a plastic basket loaded with rags and furniture polish, she handed it to Addie and stuffed in a plastic bag for trash. “Ina is running the vacuum in the living room and dining room and straightening both. If you’ll bring in the glasses and ashtrays from the library and straighten up in there, we should be finished well before people start trickling back in.

“And, Addie,” she said, checking over the fresh jeans and long-sleeved burgundy T-shirt she’d changed into, “when you’re finished, go out the front door. People will be milling around out back by then.”

Addie thought nothing of the reminder to remain out of sight. She’d heard so many similar requests over the years that she simply did it automatically, slipping around like a small ghost whenever family or guests were near.

She moved that way now as she used the butler’s door that led into the huge marble foyer and hurried up the nearest side of the curving, chandelier-lit double staircase to leave the towels on the antique sideboard at the top of it. She didn’t know which of the rooms Marie was in, but her mom or the new maid couldn’t miss seeing them there.

She barely glanced at the gilt-framed landscape hanging above the sideboard, or the brass sconces flanking the enormous work of art. Anxious to escape the nagging sense that she didn’t belong there, she hurried right back down the stairs, her footsteps soundless on the thick burgundy runner, and headed across the spoke pattern in the marble tiles that radiated from beneath the foyer’s round entry table.

She had no idea which rooms were whose upstairs. Except to drop off the towels just now, she’d never set foot up there before. She knew several of the rooms downstairs, though. As her dad had done before her, she brought in the garlands for the fireplace mantels every December.

The monotonous hum of the vacuum cleaner grew louder as she passed the enormous living room with its groupings of gold damask sofas and chairs and butter-colored faille walls. She kept going, the hum receding, as marble floor gave way to a Persian hall runner, and walked through a set of carved mahogany doors.

The lingering scent of expensive cigars mingled with more expensive leather, old books and lemon oil. Empty cocktail glasses and soda cans occupied end tables and the coffee table across from the open television armoire.

Intent on getting in, getting the job done and getting out, she left her basket on the round game table, opened the wide floor-to-ceiling French doors to let in some air and turned to pick up pieces of a children’s game from the floor.

Applause filtered through the open doors. Moments later the lilting strains of “Ode to Joy” drifted inside.

They were playing the recessional.

Addie sat back on her heels. It wasn’t just being where she didn’t belong that made her feel especially uneasy tonight. It was knowing that her mom was probably right. Scott was a good man. He wouldn’t want to wait forever.

He wanted to marry her now. He’d told her so when he’d proposed three weeks ago. He’d mentioned it again when she’d seen him the night before last. Though her mother didn’t know, Scott definitely did not want to wait until she graduated. He wanted to help her through school himself.

She didn’t know why she hesitated to set a date.

Setting a handful of plastic game pieces on the table, she stepped through the doors and onto the curved balcony. Down by the reflecting pool with its garland-wrapped Roman columns and cascades of white flowers, she could clearly see the hundreds of gowned and tuxedoed guests. They occupied row upon row of white chairs perfectly angled to have caught the sunset.

Now, in the fading twilight, the glow of hurricane candles lit the aisle, adding to the radiance of the bride as she and her groom moved down the length of white, petal-strewn carpet. A dozen attendants in as many shades of lavender followed the trailing swath of white gown and veil, along with the beaming parents and guests a few moments later.

Two dozen waiters in white dinner jackets funneled from the gazebo, bearing silver trays of champagne to carry into the elegant crowd. The string quartet continued to play, the sounds lovely and classical. The tiny white lights the florists had strung began to twinkle everywhere.

Addie stepped closer to the railing. It didn’t matter that she was apparently suffering bridal jitters herself, the scene was magical.

She would never know such a wedding. Even if she’d had the means to create the fairy tale, she couldn’t imagine being in front of that many people. Or having to converse with them afterward. Her knees would freeze, her tongue would tie and she would forget everything she ever knew about anything of any interest at all.

The scene absorbed her, drew her closer—and kept her from wondering why she felt more and more trapped.

She could see Gabe on the fringes of the milling assembly. He shook the hand of an older gentleman, then gallantly kissed the hand of the gray-haired matron with him. He moved on, clapping another guest on the back, buzzing a kiss across the cheek of a lady wrapped in a gold lamé stole. Two men came up to him, offering their hands as if to introduce themselves. With his back to her, she couldn’t see what he did, but she knew he would have accepted their handshakes, made them feel welcome and at ease. He had a gift for that. He would draw them out, listen to what they had to say. He had a gift for that, as well. She knew, because he’d done it so very often with her.

He would have been easy to pick out of nearly any crowd. He stood taller than the rest, his presence more powerful, more commanding somehow. He definitely commanded her attention in the moments before he turned and his glance swept the empty space behind him.

As if he knew he was being watched, his glance searched the house a moment before he started to turn back. As he did, his glance moved up.

Her heart gave an odd little jerk when he seemed to notice her. For several unnerving heartbeats, he stared at where she stood half-hidden in the shadows.

The dim lighting made it impossible to clearly see his expression. Still, remembering how unhappy he’d seemed with her, he managed to knot the nerves in her stomach once more before a woman in a strapless gown approached him with another gentleman and he turned to take two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter.

Stepping back into the shadows, she turned to do what she should have been doing all along. No good could come from being idle. Her mother had drilled that into her from the time she’d entered school. Her father had taught her that it was all right for a person to not be doing something so long as they were using that time to recharge their batteries with nature, a long walk or a good book.

All she’d been doing was wasting time.

The need to escape felt more urgent somehow. Fueled by that restlessness, she snapped on all the brass table lamps in the emphatically masculine room, emptied two heavy ashtrays into the plastic bag, and added the remains of chips from a napkin-lined wicker basket and the empty pop cans. She picked up a couple of investment magazines from the long, red leather sofa, added them to a stack by one of the matching wing chairs and gave the dark mahogany tables a quick polishing with a dust rag. The men and the kids had obviously hung out there part of the day.

She had just moved beneath the large painting of hunting dogs above the desk and was adding the last of the glasses to the tray to take to the kitchen when the squeak of a board outside the open French doors caused her head to jerk up.

Gabe stood at the threshold. In each hand he held a glass of champagne.

It wasn’t until he stepped inside that she realized the champagne was for her.

Chapter Three

A ddie’s hand slipped from the tray as she watched Gabe cross toward her. She had never seen him in a tuxedo before. Not in person, anyway. She’d seen photos of him in one in Newsweek and in the newspaper, all taken at charity or political fund-raisers. She especially recalled a picture of him at an embassy reception in Washington. At the time, she remembered thinking of how sophisticated and worldly he truly must be to move in such circles.

She had often wondered since then if he simply suffered formality as part of his heritage and his job, because she saw him only at his most casual. As he stopped in front of her now, she could see for herself that he wore refinement as comfortably as he did his old college sweats. The beautifully cut black tux just made him seem a lot more imposing.

Confused by his presence, she blinked at what he held. His big body blocked her view of everything but the studs in his blinding white shirt, the blatantly sensual fullness of his mouth and the guardedness in his quicksilver eyes when he held out one of the crystal flutes of bubbling wine.

“Please,” he said, when she hesitated to take what he offered. Behind him, soft strains of music and the steady drone of a hundred conversations drifted inside. “I want to apologize, Addie. I’m sorry for the way I acted this morning.”

He raised the glass a little higher.

Not wanting to be rude, she cautiously took it. “You don’t need to apologize to me,” she murmured, her glance on the bubbles rising in the delicate glass. She felt terribly awkward standing there in her plain shirt and jeans, even if they were what she considered good clothes. When they were outside talking while she worked, the lines of social demarcation didn’t seem so distinct. Here, with him radiating sophistication and surrounded by the trappings of his family’s wealth, she felt as if she should shrink into the walls.

“I do need to,” he insisted, his deep voice thoughtful. “I was out of line. My only excuse is that you caught me off guard.

“I’ve known you forever,” he reminded her. “Between that and the promise I made your dad, I guess I was just feeling a little…protective.”

“You have a gift for understatement,” she said quietly, trying to ignore the odd tug at her heart.

“Okay. Make that a lot protective,” he allowed, since he had gone a little overbearing on her. “And I really am sorry.”

Looking as thoughtful as he sounded, he slowly turned the stem of his glass in his blunt-tipped fingers. “You reminded me this morning that you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. I’m quite aware that you’re a grown woman,” he assured her, repeating what she’d so calmly pointed out. “Since you hardly need looking after, I guess all that leaves me to do is hope that this Scott does right by you…and to toast the bride-to-be.”

He lifted his glass, offered an apologetic smile.

“Your father wanted only the best for you, Addie. He never wanted you to have to worry or want or have to settle for anything less than what would make you happy.” His broad shoulders lifted in a conceding shrug. “That’s all I want for you, too.”

Addie’s fingers tightened on her own stem as he tapped the rim of his flute to hers. Crystal rang, the sound of celebration vibrating in the sudden quiet hanging between them.

The cheerful note seemed terribly out of place. Her father’s wishes for her, Gabe’s wishes, twisted hard at her heart.

He never wanted you to settle for anything less than what would make you happy.

…anything less…

The ringing died, but the words continued to echo in her head. Gabe was doing exactly what she had thought he would have done when he’d first heard her news, wishing her luck, congratulating her, wanting the best for her. She should have felt relieved that everything had gone back to normal. Yet nothing felt normal at all.

She could again feel the unfamiliar tension in him. It snaked toward her, knotting the nerves in her stomach, tugging her toward him and making her aware of him in ways she had no business considering at all.

Afraid he would see her trembling if she raised her glass, she set it on the desk and focused on one of the bubbles clinging stubbornly to the inside of the crystal. While others raced past it to burst on top, it held its own, determined to hold its ground.

Or, maybe, just afraid to break free.

She found it truly pathetic that she could relate so easily to a bubble. There were things she wanted, but there was so much more she was afraid to even consider because the dreams were so far beyond her reach. Her mother was right. Setting one’s sights too high only led to disappointment. Clinging to what she had seemed so much safer.

Gabe’s glass joined hers. “You’re still upset with me.”

“No. I…no,” she repeated.

“Then, what is it?”

She shook her head, her focus on the neat pleats in his cummerbund.

“Addie,” he said, and slipped his fingers under her chin. “Talk to me.”

Her heart jerked wildly as he tipped her face toward his.

“I’m not really sure what to say.”

“Just say you forgive me.”

“I forgive you.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, and smiled because he did.

“I’m going to miss you,” he admitted, that smile finally making its way into his eyes. “It’s not going to be the same here without you.”

“I’m not going anywhere for a while.”

“Yeah, but you will. And I can’t imagine that your husband would appreciate me showing up on your doorstep just because I need to vent or get advice or have you tell me my ego is getting in the way of my job.”

She wanted to tell him he could come to her anytime, but she couldn’t seem to find her voice. The subtle, sensual brush of his thumb over her cheek froze the words in her throat.

That touch, gentle and innocent as it was, seemed to be toying with a mental lock she’d long ago secured into place.

As a girl, she had fantasized about being in his arms. As a woman, she had long ago accepted that he was light-years out of her league and felt incredibly lucky just to have his friendship. Now, breathing in the arousing combination of aftershave and warm male, the heat of his hand seeping into her skin, she could barely think at all.

He brushed her cheek once more, the smile in his eyes slowly fading. In those smoke-gray depths, she saw what looked very much like a struggle as his glance followed the slow, mesmerizing motion of his thumb. It was almost as if he were considering the feel of her skin, savoring it, committing it to memory—and wondering the whole time if he should be touching her at all.

“Be happy, Addie,” he murmured, and leaned to touch his lips to her cheek.

Gabe had felt her go still at his touch. Now he could swear she wasn’t even breathing. Beneath his lips her skin felt like satin. Her scent, something fresh, light and amazingly provocative, filled his lungs. She felt impossibly soft, smelled incredible and when he drew back far enough to see the corner of her lush, unadorned mouth, his heart seemed to be beating a little faster than it had just a moment ago.

He hadn’t counted on that. Or on the way her stillness invited him to stay right where he was. He was close enough to feel her breath tremble out against his cheek, close enough to see her lips part as she slowly drew in more air.

Drawn by her softness, he slipped his fingers from her chin, tracing the delicate line of her jaw. The feathery crescents of her lashes drifted down. The delicate cords of her neck convulsed as she swallowed.

She wanted his touch.

Something inside him tightened at the thought, snaring him, pulling him back down when he should have been pulling away. He touched his mouth to hers, a soft brush of contact that made his heart bump against his ribs.

He did it again, and felt her pulse race where his fingers rested against the silken skin of her neck. Sliding one arm around her, he eased her forward until her body touched his.

“Kiss me back,” he whispered, and felt something molten and liquid pour through his veins when she sighed—and did.

Gabe hadn’t quite known what he would do when he’d climbed the stairs to the balcony and entered the room. It wasn’t like him to start anything without a game plan. He was the guy who never went into any meeting without a plan and backup and maybe a couple more contingencies for good measure. He liked to have all of his bases covered and to know as much about the other side as his own so he wouldn’t be caught unprepared.

He definitely hadn’t been prepared this time.

When he’d walked in, all he’d known for certain was that nothing had felt the same since he’d learned of her engagement, that he was sorry he’d acted like a jerk and that he couldn’t leave in the morning without telling her he wished her well. They had known each other too long to let his knee-jerk reaction cloud their relationship.

He also knew that he had not planned on kissing her.

He most definitely hadn’t planned on the impact of having her small, supple body in his arms.

She tasted like warm honey and felt like pure heaven. Slipping his hand up her side, he curved it just beneath the gentle fullness of her breasts. He wanted to feel more of her. All of her. He pulled her closer, lifted her higher against him, drank more deeply. Their breaths joined, her flavor mingled with his.

He edged his hand up, cupped the side of her small breast. She would fit his palm perfectly. He was sure of it. And would have caved in to the temptation to find out for sure if he hadn’t just felt her stiffen.

The sudden stillness in her body had him going still himself. She was no more prepared for the slow meltdown of their senses than he had been. He was as certain of that as he was of the clawing heat low in his belly. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d kissed a woman and felt such immediate need. More important at the moment, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d kissed a woman and promptly kissed good sense goodbye.

With a ragged breath he slowly lifted his head.

Addie’s grip tightened on his biceps, her fingers clutching the finely woven fabric of his jacket as she slowly lowered her head. She couldn’t let go of him. Not yet. He had taken the strength from her legs. Or maybe, she thought, she had simply given it to him. There had been no demand. No insistence. Just a slow, sweet heat that had filled her, consumed her and left her burning everywhere he’d touched.

Her breathing was no steadier than his when she finally eased away, willing her knees to support her when her fingers slipped from his arms. Clasping her hands over her fluttering stomach, she felt the little diamond bite into her palm.

Gabe caught the flash of the stone the instant before it disappeared.

Guilt promptly slammed into desire. “I’m sorry,” he said for what felt like the umpteenth time that night. “That was a mistake.”

He shouldn’t have kissed her. He should have let her go with the safe, chaste little buzz on the cheek he’d started with and left well enough alone. He had managed to explain his behavior before. He had no idea how to do it now.

Hating how distressed she looked, he reached toward her, only to drop his hand in case she pulled away. “Are you all right?”

“You should go,” she said, her voice a thready whisper. “People will be wondering where you are.”

“You haven’t answered me.”

“I’m…I don’t know what I am,” she confessed, clearly rattled. “You really need to leave, Gabe. You’re supposed to give a toast.”

“The toast can wait.”

“No, it can’t. You shouldn’t even be here.”

Gabe couldn’t argue that. Duty called, and heaven knew he always met his obligations. With her so clearly closing herself off to him, it wasn’t as if staying would help, anyway. He had no idea what to do for damage control.

He took a step back, torn by the embarrassment and confusion so evident in her lovely eyes. Torn by the knowledge that he was the cause of her anxiety.

It wasn’t like him not to know what to do in a situation. It wasn’t like him to not know what to say. Not knowing if he should apologize again or simply say good-night, he finally decided she wanted nothing from him but his silence and said nothing before he turned and headed for the open doors.

Addie could hear his footsteps on the balcony, listened to them fade down the steps. She was shaken to the core by his kiss, the heat in it, the quiet hunger, and stunned by how shamelessly she’d melted in his arms.

Only when she could no longer hear anything but music did she release the breath she’d held and sink against the side of the desk. As she did, she turned, pushing her trembling fingers through her hair—and saw her mother in the doorway on the other side of the room.

The knot in her stomach turned to lead.

Addie had no idea how long her mom had been standing there, or just what all she’d seen. She’d obviously seen enough, though, to put the unfamiliar spots of color on her cheeks and to make her look as if she just caught her daughter kissing the devil himself.

Rose hurried in, her hands knotted, her voice a frantic whisper. “What in heaven’s name do you think you’re doing? Are you out of your mind?”

Unable to explain what had happened to herself, much less to anyone else, Addie added the untouched flutes of champagne to the tray, carefully because she was still shaking, and headed across the room to close the doors she wished now she’d never opened.

“Addie, answer me. What is going on?”

“Nothing is going on. I’m finished in here,” she replied, her eyes on her tasks as she picked up the basket of cleaning supplies on her way back to get the tray. “What else do you need me to do?”

Her mom retrieved the tray herself. “I need for you to stay away from him,” she insisted, her sensible shoes soundless on the carpet runner. Worry threaded the hushed tones of her voice. “He’s only going to cause you trouble. He’s wrong to pursue you. You’re an engaged woman.”

“He’s not pursuing me.”

“How long has this been going on?” she demanded, clearly not hearing.

“There isn’t—”

“I know what I saw,” came the truly distressed reply. “I couldn’t hear you, but there’s not a thing wrong with my vision. Oh, Addie,” she continued, her voice falling even as her anxiety rose. “I’ve always been afraid you cared too much for him. You don’t think I can see how you feel about him, but you’ve always allowed him far more influence over you than is wise. It was one thing to have a crush on him when you were a girl, but you have to forget about that man. You’re going to mess up your entire life if you think you have any sort of future with him.”

Gabe was the first to leave the next morning. He’d said his goodbyes at the party that lasted long past when he’d turned in at midnight, and slipped out at the crack of dawn while there was no danger of running into anyone who might delay his escape.

Mornings were usually his favorite time of day. He especially liked it when the sun was just coming up and the whole day stretched untouched before him. It was a time of possibilities, a clean slate, another beginning. This morning, though, as he tossed his black leather suit bag into the back seat of his black Mercedes, climbed behind the wheel and headed down the long drive to where the automatic gate swung wide to let him back into the real world, it wasn’t beginnings he was thinking about.

It was change.

Apparently he didn’t adapt to it very well.

Addie’s dad had once told him that how a man dealt with change was often the truest test of his character. Until yesterday Gabe had figured he dealt fine with it. At least he did when he instigated it himself. With something beyond his control, it was clear he’d pretty much flunked the test.

He couldn’t believe he’d kissed her like that.

He couldn’t believe how she’d responded to him, either. He’d tasted surrender in her, astonishingly immediate, and a hint of passion held ruthlessly in check. The surrender had nearly made him groan with need. The thought of removing the reins from that bridled passion had made for a decidedly restless night’s sleep.

His hands tightened on the wheel.